The Honeymoon Poem by Leslie Alexis

The whistling kettle
Calls us in the morn,
Brewing teas, which satisfy
Gyrates -like fiery gingers-
Upon our tongues,
Spicy and sweet breads
Dip into gourmet sauces,
Crisp biscuits are broken
As the morning crow calls,
And the sun awakens;
Its egg-like yoke making
Even more obvious
The beauty of the
Woman sitting with me.

After the pleasing meal
I take your hands
And we leave the verandah;
My arms wrapped around you.
We walk together,
Your hands in mine;
Our Fingers dancing
-A gentle dance—
Seemingly on winds.
We walk on dewy grasses,
Between yawning flowers.
The early bird descends
Upon the quiescent worm
And busy bees, buzzing,
Fly back and forth,
Stealing the nectars
From the pots, of the
Scenic rested flowers,

They fell asleep,
In the Purest white,
Pink, blue and red
Dresses that eyes have seen.
I pick only two,
And place them in your hair;
The red and the white,
Mixes perfectly,
With your green eyes.
Like the bees,
I steal nectar
From your plump lips.

Whilst on the grass
Clouds ambush the seen,
Finishing the wakening,
We do not leave,
Instead we disrobe,
Making the land our Eden.
We trace the paths
Of the fresh water
Upon each others bodies.
I keep you close to me,
And let the water run,
From my chest to your breast,
As we make love.

Copyright ©2010 Leslie Alexis