Is it not those tender hands
caressing your face,
moving slowly down tense shoulders,
coming to rest over your heart,
that melts away the weight
of your world?

Is it not those warm, moist lips
pressed gently against yours,
that starts the clock on that
precious time of transition
from responsibility to romance?

Is it not the toss of her hair
across bare shoulders,
as she turns a graceful neck
to look longingly into your eyes
that weakens your knees,
quickens your pulse,
and shatters your resolve?

is it not time for the gatherer
to turn hunter?

7 thoughts on “Transition

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