Dear Mary Angel,

 I haven't written any poetry in quiet a while. I want to say I simply forgot to write, that other more pressing concerns kept my attentions elsewhere, but the simple truth is I've been frustrated with my quality of sight - that, and the lack of a computer, or rather, the time it takes to craft anything worth while. And while going through some notes from earlier this years I saw this... it's a bit risque, I'll admit, but I hope you'll forgive my including it here.

        I thought, as you paused, sipping your tea
        wet, red tongue, kissing the brim
        of your porcelain cup. Your lips, how soft
        ~how we made our tongues to swim
        I smiled at the mem'ry. You softly coughed
        Last night! I in you, on the lip of your cup
        Smiling, demure, lips a'touch your cup
        making love to your honey and tea

        Your cup and saucer chimed in duet. 'What?'
        you asked, knowing yet wishing it said
        How I loved our last loving; your soft warm skin
        smouldering upon our mid-summers bed
        and cursing the moment our day must begin
        ~How we relished the intimacy, and naked, lay
        as first light touched the bed where we lay
        And impatient with waiting, again you say, 'what?'

        ELAshley
        020316.021918.6

        Revisions:

        112316.035359.6


This was in progress when last I touched it, and is not remotely complete - I wonder if it ever shall,  because I feel there is still much much more to say about these two enjoying a cup outside a cafe in, perhaps, Paris. But the first two stanzas seem finished, though I'm not comfortable with the 3rd line at all. I will likely rewrite or rephrase much of what's here; I can't ever seem to just let things be.

The rhyming scheme is as follows... A - b - c - b - c - D - D - A, wherein the first and last lines repeat their final word, or phrase, as do lines 6 & 7. These two stanzas, if I remember correctly, took about two and a half hours to write. This springs from my penchant to over-think the problem; I'll fret and obsess over every word till it satisfies. I'll come back months later and see again that something is not quite right, and I'll revise yet again - there are poems in my arsenal that have seen a dozen of revisions or more! 

 

Thanksgiving  Day is tomorrow - I started cooking today. Last night my wife and I were at a church supper where almost 300 people gorged on turkey, dressing, and the testimonies at the end! I was moved by the number of children who so innocently - without guile or pretense - thanked God for their parents and their pastor.

And I thank God for you, and I pray for you and yours; that His richest blessings encompass and surround each of you.

With love

E