The diary blushed
 

Beware the man who keeps a diary. But not this man

For this man's diary contains nothing more than an

Account of his faith and belief in love

He treasured her before he knew her. Loved her long

Before they met. He wrote of their meeting being

Written in the stars. Stars he gazed upon most nights

When the sky was clear. For he knew that somewhere

Up there in the heavens lay the answer to his dreams

To his heart's desire and to his destiny

And when they finally did meet he and his diary rejoiced

He wrote at once about her deportment, her dress and

Her style, but more than anything else he wrote about her

Eyes. How they sparkled, how they reached deep into his

Soul, teasing him, pleasing him, driving him to distraction

Before finally closing as their lips met

Opening his diary one morning the pages suddenly flew

Into a rage threatening to close again barring entry. What

Animated the diary so was sight of the woman so long

Yearned for, so long desired, now looking directly into the

Pages of a once bashful heart causing the diary to take

Fright before swiftly recovering again when the entry for

That day ran thus:

Last night I was taken by a rush of love. The urgent pull

Of the woman in my arms, her need, my need, colliding

At full strength. Nothing left to the imagination, nothing a

Mirror could not see and sweat the only lubricant to ease

The passage of flesh upon flesh, legs upon legs, lips upon

Lips. Her body glistened in the half light as she lay atop of

Me and whispered 'Relax' this won't hurt…

The diary blushed – eagerly soaking up every word and

Anxiously awaiting the next

© Joseph G Dawson
20/06/2018