Our Summer Days

Our Summer Days

A Poem by Aekmy

I melted, hot like the butter in my mothers' Alabama kitchen on a 
Sunday afternoon right after church 
when the chicken was made and the women were cookin' and the kitchen was alive. 
Your tongue, sweet in my mouth, tasted my honey lips. 
Your hands, like fine cotton sheets, 
were consoling my tired 
skin.
The color of rosemary glowed in my cheeks. 
In our slow kisses, I felt like we were one. 
Finally, I belonged.

© 2011 Aekmy


Author's Note

Aekmy
June 10, 2011

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You spared no opportunity of romance.
Hot summer kitchen where chicken was made became your beloved rendezvous.
You created a wonderful recipe of poem with honey, rosemary and lots of other ingredients.
Congratulations!


Posted 7 Years Ago



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Added on June 10, 2011
Last Updated on December 5, 2011

Author

Aekmy
Aekmy

There is beauty is uniqueness. Embrace the strange or perish in the ordinary.



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"Leaving the page of the book carelessly open, something unsaid, the phone off the hook and the love, whatever it was, an infection. - Anne Sexton" more..

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A Story by Aekmy