His Crimson Tie

You left your tie on my coffee table.
Crimson with navy and silver stripes
accenting the crimson base.
I see you standing in front of me
and I yearn to kiss your lips.
Have your arms circle around
clasping me in their firm embrace.
But now your tie is folded neatly
gracing my table with its wealth of color.
I cannot resist. I have to take
your tie in my hands and press it
against my face. I savor your fragrance.
INNIS from the isle of Erin,
and I yearn for your presence.
I picture you lying alone
on your twin bed in the back room.
Are you dreaming of me? Do you
replay our moments of passion?
Is your big bed in the front room lonely
for two lovers to bring it fulfillment?

I hold your tie in my hands.
I am taken back to the feel of your arms,
to the thrill of your persistent touch.
When will you come and retrieve your tie?
Will I be able to bear its absence?
When you leave with your tie in your pocket
will I be left empty inside?
The tie is the tangible evidence
that you have been here,
shared love and laughter
in this big two bedroom apartment.
When your tie is gone, your scent
will no longer be near for me to breathe in.
It will seem like a lifetime
until you visit me once again
with a different tie, a different suit.
But the fragrance of INNIS
will linger long after you leave.
For it will forever be the cologne
that speaks of your crimson tie and love.

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