Summer is a Slave to your Love

 

The moon gives up the night to the sun,

 who eagerly awaits your every waking moment.    

  The morning dove has a new song, he will sing, as you awake.

I on baited breath gaze upon your face to catch your first smile of the day.

The weatherman predicts a mild to warm day.

 Little does he know your passion for life will frenzy the sun

and it will hit 90 way before noon.

The summer breeze carries the scent of jasmine, caressing your skin,

 leaving it fragrant and sweet.

 My face is flush from lingering memories of the night.

They leave me warm and happy with no need for a morning meal only your kiss.

Author's Note

any comments are helpful

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

I like that. Breaking our fast in the morning with memories of the night before. If only we had a meteorologist to predict where our hearts go.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Yes a meteorologist for the heart would be awesome.

[T.S. Ulmus]

I love a good love poem, and this one gives tingles in my spirity bits. "My face is flush from lingering memories of the night", great line. I hope the baby spiders of inspiration continue to crawl up your nose and grow to fruition in your brain.

[Cherrie Palmer]

I'm afraid that baby spiders are ban from the house, but I do enjoy seeing them in the garden and over hangs. :) and thank you I always liked this one.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

A most passionate and sensual of love poems writ with such a down to earth and compassionate adoration.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Thank you, John.
I like writing a good (at least my own version of good) love poem.

I think the best formula is to capture real life with real emotions and set them to music.
I get tired of poems that sneak up on a topic. Leaving the reader to wonder or ware them out with a thousand words.

In all honesty I think love poems are overdone, but I'm sentimental and am compelled to whip one up every now and then.

[Neville]

Can anyone tell me how I managed to miss this for almost ten whole years... Well no matter, I got here in the end and like a fine wine.. I believe this has matured nicely and is sweeter and more mellow and confident that it was when first posted on April 14th 2009.... Although that a good vintage if my memory serves me... A great love poem here Cherrie.. lucky guy too in my opinion :)

[Cherrie Palmer]

:) thank you, Neville i use to hide these poems in his lunch or uniform, tackle box, poor man. Now days I just spray the inside of his hat with my perfume, ya know out of sight- saying meets the olfactory.
Wouldn't it be great is our poems could age like a fine wine.
I guess in a way they do.

[Neville]

Wish I wore a hat sometimes... my pleasure my friend... and yep.. I reckon some of them do.... N

[Cherrie Palmer]

You had to really wade through it to find this old poem. I forget how many posts I have. I'm a hoarder, of words who knew.

[Neville]

I did but then I had no doubt I would eventually find summat that I had not left my mark on among your pages .. tis a real pleasure Cherrie...