I do so love the storm of you.

The wild wet winds of your passion

Unleashed

Ubound

Untamed.

But it is after the storm,

when the calm sets back in

and we lie entwined together,

those are the moments I most crave.

“Pillow time” you called it once.

Those long quiet moments

No words

No sounds

No urgency.

That is when I seek your eyes

with my eyes and drink you in

as I let you drink me in,

as we explore the each of

the other lying close together.

Your face has a child-like wonder,

a surprised expression as I stare

for long moments into your eyes,

my fingers lightly tracing

your skin, your hair, your eyebrows.

I can do this for hours with you,

content to simply partake

of the beauty that is your face

Unhurried

Unguarded

Unafraid.

I am older than you in years,

some would say too old,

yet I too feel like a child.

Possessive of your attention,

watching your eyes watch my eyes.

“Pillow time” you called it once.

In my memory those are the moments

I remember the clearest and dearest

when apart

when I ache

when alone.