Paris Lovers 1973 Poem by Terry Collett

Sonya loves
Paris streets
white French wine

fresh French food
and our room
with shutters

now open
allowing
sounds of night

to come in
I put down
my Russian

crime novels
as she lies
naked there

on the bed
some Bartok
on the white

radio
playing out
you ready?

She asks me
lying there
I'm ready

I tell her
turning off
the room light

making do
with street light
entering now

the wide bed
feeling her
beside me

her warm flesh
she kisses
her soft lips

kissing mine
her small hands
seeking out

my pecker
stirring up
the blood line

while my hands
explore her
plentiful

soft ripe fruits
her valleys
her taut peaks

someone speaks
in French tongue
from the white

radio
Bartok's gone
Bach begins

some music
Baroque stuff
we kiss hot

bodies move
to music
sounds invade

our memories
as we start
making love

with streets sounds
and lamp lights
and moon glow

and star shine
and waiting
afterwards

two glasses
with clear ice
of French wine.