Lovers Under Glass

©Mimi Wolske, May 2013

All Rights Reserved


Our last night at the lake;

The sun sets late but all too soon.

Doesn’t it always meet the

Horizon too quickly the last day

We have together?

Here we are, a different

Cabin, a different lake,

But the same sun closing

The day as we embrace

With sorrowful regret

For tomorrow’s parting.

Within my heart remains

Memories of everything

Said and done, nothing

Not tried or left unspoken.


Grasping this last night’s

Opportunity, not

Knowing what it is we’ll

Take, yet appreciative

Of the adventure sought

And found. What part of what

was grasped was beyond our reach?

Or, was there a part? Is there

Anything beyond reach

Except time? Does not

Every thought forged lead

Us gaily forward? Is not

Every thought a safeguard’s

Release of sensibilities?


The very sight of you when

I arrived captured me, slowed

My attention to each detail

Of the way you move,

The power of you, the

Slant of your smile, the

Desire for me behind

Grey eyes that sped arousal,

Eroticism that

Refused to be rushed

Yet that couldn’t be met

Quickly enough for us.


Shared plans forgotten the

Moment of embrace, the

Moment lips touched tenderly

In greeting, in the instant

Two hands clasped as though

In contractual agreement

Of the awaited concert.

Roses! A delightful,

Unexpected, romantic

Surprise that sent a rush

Of anticipation

From the promise carried

By a dozen stems

And each individual

Velvety, scarlet petal.


I think we’ll miss the way

The water shimmers like a

Rhinestone dress in the sun;

The way the woodpecker

Tapped his bill on the tree;

The surprise of deer tracks

Across the Sandy Beach;

The astonishment of

The cougar spotted hidden

Partially among the trees.

More than any of these,

We’ll feel the loss being

Enthralled by dueling

Tongues, gooseflesh raised by hands

Trailing paths over naked skin,

My furled nipples made harder

From attentive suckling,

Your hardened erection

Blinking out a drop when

It hungrily pressed

Against my thirsty slit.


Enraptured, quivering,

Trembling, thrilled with each touch,

We couldn’t wait for a

Darkness that wouldn’t occur

As the hours of daylight

Lengthened this time of year.

Impatient, the sofa

Became the fourth bed

In this three-bedroom cabin.

Longing intensified,

Craving each with passion

Stronger than an animal’s

Need to rut his mate in season.

It was like creating

An erotic tale and we

Laughingly, playfully titled

Our sexual antics

In The Acrobatics’ Bed.


Exhausted, sated, needing

Oxygen like a falling

Hot-air balloon needs

Heated helium, we pant

For surcease not given but

Seized. As the room slows,

When the spinning halts, our

Bodies, covered in sexual

Perspiration and clinging

To each other, take notice.

Spent, drained, exhausted, we

Recover in sleep. Then,

Beginning with the early

Rising sun, we never

Dare to linger over

The discovery of

Your early arousal.

Unexpected as snow

In May, we exercise

The many positions

Until satiated over

And over, too many

Times to number, we find

Morning moved into noon.

Languidly spent reading,

We renew spent energies

In lawn chairs stretched in the sun.


We do not rebel against


Sexuality as merely sex;

We understand from

Experience over

The years that emotions

Are more than pigeonholing.

After time in the canoe,

Or over horseshoes, or

In a crowded restaurant,

Didn’t we anticipate

What was planned to happen,

What we discussed about

Changes that occurred over

These years, expectations

For the future, and

For what could take place

Between us beneath the quilts?


Our eroticism pays


Every fold, every

Texture, every scent,

Each nuanced gesture with

A wink of delight. Our

Eroticism is

Neither whip nor whisper

On their own; it remains

A lingering of our

Attention to the way

Either one or both strikes

Our senses. Then, lying

In bed until our morning

Shower and noticing

Where pleasured skin incites

Us to let the water fall.

Carefully, we listen,

Touch, taste, smell…cease

For a moment to note

And having noticed, promise

Where love is held in trust

It will remain secure.


Knowing it is about

To end, I bow my head

Under your affectionate

Touch. It’s difficult to

Be adult when someone

Loved must go away, when

We lovers under glass

Must return to the point

Where it began, and so,

Like a child, my tears

Plunge internally not

Wanting to spoil the time

Left to share happiness,

Not wanting you to see

How my heart breaks knowing

We return to separate

Homes, to separate lives.


It isn’t a solitary

Note but a symphony

Of love’s euphonic song

That plays as we pant

One last breathless sigh while

Clinging to each other

Under the disappearing

Sun’s final rays of warmth

This last night together

In our cozy cabin

On the lake’s edge.

There is reluctance

For the end of our

Quick-silvered days and nights

While anticipation

For love’s futurition

Burgeons and grows and

Is protectively locked away.


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