Sylvia
 

When out walking her fingers frequently find

Mine. Squeezing my hand urging 'Put your leg

In bed' her term for linking arms when she

Cuddles up pulling me tightly into her body

So tight I can feel her 36D softness pressing

On my arm, a softness we're both well aware

Of and both enjoy

Oh, of such joy is my Sylvia made. Always

Touchy-feely, always making the first move

Always reminding me of her body, keen to

Stay in touch with mine

We met on a bus that gave up the ghost one

Night around midnight leaving us stranded

Between cities with just a small country pub

For comfort. My heart leapt when she asked

If she could join me for dinner. The pub had

Stayed open – its kitchen too. 'Of course you

May, be my pleasure' I blurted out perhaps

A little too enthusiastically

We had a meal of too few courses, a nightcap

Not nearly long enough and a goodnight that

Left me feeling deserted. Next morning we

Continued our journey and when the time

Came to part a stammering goodbye turned

Into nervous laughter and relief when a very

Genuine 'Yes, I'd love to see you again' met

my disbelieving ears. 'You would?' 'Oh that

Would be fantastic' was the best my shocked

Brain would permit

A chance meeting of lovers-to-be on a bus

A wonderful broken down bus the X66 or

As we like to call it the 1066 on which we

Often travel to recapture the moment we

Met perhaps engaging in a little cosiness on

The back seat upstairs. Sylvia, the essence of

Love and life itself. Never afraid to let her

Body speak her mind, never afraid to bring

Happiness to our home, always the lover

Always the mother. No compromise, no half

Measures, if you knew her you'd know…

A fruitful confident woman. A woman who

Knows who she is and excels at who she is

Slips into a blouse only to have it slip off again

Such is the power of her attraction. A full

Bodied woman. Voluptuous would be the word

I'm looking for. The kind of woman who has joy

Written all over her and who brings joy wherever

She goes

Writing about her makes me want her as I write

And as each word combines to make a sentence

The next word already whets my appetite. Steamy

Books are not written by the lethargic nor love

Poems by the listless but by those who have seen

And handled the beauty of this world and have

Bathed in the sweet waters of life

And it was in the sweet waters of life that I

Found Sylvia and she found me. We bathed

Together, loved together and we will stay

Together for as long as heaven permits
 

© Joseph G Dawson
02/03/2018 – 27/03/2016