If love were real then dreams would flow,
And silent tears alone would know,
That smoke & hate are haggard’s thoughts,
From rounded women that money bought.
I’d turn to see my golden child,
My pretty girl with pretty smile.
Imagination keeps her there,
In pleasant place where all men stare.
Adventure calls to far off lands,
With dainty girls & youthful hands,
Orange sun & crazy laughs,
Midnight feasts & camping drafts,
I’ll freeze to death in roadside grass,
Unknown to secret lovers past.
I dream of one who love admires,
The girl who lights my yearning fire,
& there she is; naked, toned,
Fantasies, orgasmic moans,
Whose playful whim, which sparkles so,
& teasing actions that makes things grow.
But plane arrives in Amsterdam,
This girl I leave, her biggest fan,
For if I believed in marriage told,
I’d live with her til I was old,
We’d travel much & love much more,
We’d see the Alps & Pacific shore,
Each bridge we’d cross, I’d stop her still,
& kiss her lips & smile in thrill.
Travel becomes a girl so young,
Like music set to sensual song,
We’d sway in June & sleep in May,
Caress her body each gentle day,
Her warmth in soul it radiates,
& fills my heart with love that aches.
& as I plan & flight will take,
Alone I leave, though not forsake,
That precious dream who resides in me,
How I’d travel with her if love could be.
For call me mad, or call me fool,
God lets me dream, though he is cruel,
I wish to love that naked spark,
& leave this love within her heart.
So let me settle with maiden dear,
& I‘d travel not with distant fear.
~ Happy Travel coming, but I dream so much of HER.
© Ed Simkins