Our sweaty bodies roll apart
contentment mixed with hints of guilt
so relaxed that I let flee a fart---------------------Onamatopeia
then cover her head with the quilt

Beside the bed alarm clock sounds
reminding us it's six o'clock
and as I exit bedding mounds
her hand grasps at my old.............sock-------------Caesura

In roads to a poem to be
I shall listen to some music
There as if in the distance is a lady
She is singing Memory
I remember that you live

I recall all the things you taught me
Yet I have to leave you here
One day my name will go.
There on the screen will be a nothing
Then you will have to use “Memory”

He was here you will say to others
What of me then you will think.
As there is no after, you did say,
That to you, I did exist, or did I?

The Lion wakes up in the morn,
and sits up in the cage.
The sheep rose up and put him there
to watch the old beast age.

They shut him in,
they shut him up,
they'll never let him out.

His cubs are lost
without his roar;
they fear the bleating sheep.

Holding close against her cheek.
he tempts, taunts, teases, tries, her fickle nature.
He dares her catch him at his flirting glance,
capture him within the fullness of her smile,
contain him motionless within her grasp.
She lets herself be used but never tamed.
So back and forth for hours play he and she their game,
the sailor and his mistress wind.