Undercooked

So there they met-
A new born star, and the glowing sun.
But shes a little undercooked,
A little underdone,
A little too little,
A little too young:

Your voice-gravelly,
maturity's footsteps lead a path down your throat,carved deep.
My voice-pebbled,
my young tongue still allows my words
to roll into my mouth
at high tide.
Your olive green eyes,
ripened, endured the sunshine and
the rain.
Although still gleaming.
Even now.
My cobalt-blue eyes,
still fresh and delicate,
looking up to the heavens,
and still expecting.
I sometimes have to blink lots,
to refresh my vision of life.
Your hands- I draw in a breath,
and strive to imagine
the experience.
Where theyve slipped,stroked,sensed.
My hands- blindly stumble,
their apricot youth,
still to discover the rough,
the jagged and the tough.

I want your voice
to creep up on mine,
and growl and purr,
and rub against my tongue
contently.
And your eyes
to engulf me,
wrap me up in your silken
understanding,
and clench me to you side.

So their orbits continue,
As they zoom through the sky,
cause the sun was too stubborn, the star was too shy.
The star will be glowing
razzle dazzle shine bling
And the sun will have fizzled out-
Into nothing.