The Taste
I tasted you the moment we met
Our eyes meeting… the tranquil waters of the ocean
our hands touching… strong and worn like the Earth herself
our lips forming words and smiles… a private dance shared between us
And then we parted, nothing left but the sweetness to savor
You knew nothing, it was my own private taste, my own private moment
I was cute, and shy… always “cute” and “shy”
You were proud and beautiful… like a mountain that needs nothing more than to be, to display its glory.
What hope had I that that single taste would become a feast
But I would taste you again, your essence a vivid memory on my tongue
And so we did meet again and again, mingling and parting
Eyes, hands, lips… all practicing for some other destined occasion
And you, becoming a craving, the desired main course for a starving woman
After a time, I had lost hope of quenching my thirst of you
as your flavor seemed to get lost on my tongue,
nothing more than a vague memory… an aftertaste
I began resigning myself to a life of fast food and leftovers
Oh, I had tasted… dined… on others
But none could compare to your flavor, water to honeyed mead
or perhaps it was your flavor mingled with my own
that created some epicurean delight that my senses could not let go of
And just as I had reconciled my life to TV dinners and mac and cheese… there you are
Eyes, hands, lips, coming to mingle and dance once more
Letting me taste you again, and again
Floating on my tongue like sweet ambrosia
Our meeting, glances and gazes…
Our touching, hands, shoulders, backs, thighs…
Our dance, the words and smiles,
Go late into the night
And you remain, the taste becoming an appetizer… a prelude of the dinner yet to come
Then a single promise… dance… kiss
And as if we had practiced enough,
I tasted you, and drank you whole.
