thunder

The rain came late that season,
And washed the dusty ground;
Cleansed the muggy air of heat
With a gentle, constant sound.

Their raincoats lay discarded
By the open stable door,
And steam rose, softly twirling,
From the figures on the floor.

It seemed there was but one arched back;
One clawing, outstretched hand;
One form, one living motion,
In the straw and dusty sand

They never shared before
This dusky passion, this embrace,
And when the spell is broken,
They each go their separate ways.

But caught fast in each other’s web
Of beautiful deceit,
The lips that whisper loving words
Are treacherously sweet.

It is purely in the moment;
The spontaneous cliché,
Yet man’s desire for pleasure
Will endure beyond this day.

The magic which entraps them
Has lasted throughout time,
And their words of desperate falsehood
Are part of an endless rhyme.

A verse of strange excitement,
Charged with ageless lust,
Ignited in two strangers
In the rain and summer dust.