My love, my sweet love,
Were are you?
What are you doing?
Do you still think of me betimes?

I think of you often,
I think of your young eyes, and I start plunging deep within them,
Quickly losing myself in their supernal nature,
Two, deep, dark, delicious orbs,
Looking at me with such alacrity, sophistication and enquiry,
Summoning me to celestial enchantments…

I think of your intoxicating nape,
Remembering the many blissful hours I spent nestling in it,
And a headiness usurps me that totally upsets the balance of my sensitive senses,
Aaahhh, your aura, your vivacious energy, leave me a ‘wreck’, a totally pliable slave of your love…

I think of your shapely hands,
Hands that have not yet been marred by middle-age[like mine] and an unforgiving life,
Hands that are steady and sure,
Hands that caress me with such tenderness, that my feeble heart begins beating irregularly…

Finally, I think of your ruby-lips,
Young, eager, full and so erotic,
Aaahhh, what thrilling kisses we shared,
What engaging conversation we shared as I listened when you would excitedly recount your most recent University Professor’s Philosophy lesson, and of your life as a freshman…

Where are you my love?
Where are you?
So near yet so far,
Always next to my heart, yet you’re plowing other oceans now,
Surfing other waves,
Exploring other shores…
Where are you my love?
I miss you so…