The Pace
Of the proclivity.
The pace of the proclivity,
Making sure they’re done,
The scene of sensitivities,
Time spent in the sun.
Your smile and your beauty.
And my intoxication,
The distant call of duty,
We yearn for liberation.
In a place where the pace,
Has stilled and melted our senses,
A place far from the human race,
We farm for recompenses.
In the dark a tiny spark,
Can turn into a fire,
An arrow that hits the mark,
Strong feelings of desire.
Both set free from repartee,
Love in a mist of whispers,
When there is only you and me,
Tears fell, and I kissed hers.
I wax and wane, yet I’m the same,
Beneath the skin and bone,
Inside burns an eternal flame,
A love I call my own.
I feel the inspiration,
It makes my life complete,
A kindred spirit who is free,
From my head down to my feet.
Its ilk is iteration,
Fast to infinity,
Mutual liberation,
In love’s affinity.
©
David Rudder
2023
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry. Click below to Join Medium for more great poetry and stories.
