‘The Question’ – a poem

The Question

“You know I do”
“But, how much?” she asked
he didn’t give her what she wanted before
there came the gentle rasp
of two lovers burning softly
as one.

“Well,”
and with that she asked again
Eye-in-eye, they both smiled; knowing
that The Question was just pretend
the storm that swirled in his marbles:
a deed to his sweet sun.

“How much?” was her way
to tell him too, though
neither call nor response could ever be enough
In truth there was but one thing to do:
Beside their clothes, they put down their words,
in the silence they made love.

– 13.02.17

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