SOULMATES
By
R. W. Thompson
Feb. 9, 1989

Our souls came as travelers across the mists of time.....
and stood alone on a crowded shore.

Each not knowing of the other in this life.....
but sensing that presence that had helped and reassured
in times of strife.

Each looking for someone to share the day...the night.....
but never finding the one to make it right.

Years are spent searching but not finding, longing yet unfulfilled.....
and then one day a stranger met, now there is no need to wait.

Having never met before, you find you understand.....
the other's looks, the other's hands.

Could it be that from some other time.....
we traveled across the mists to find...
each other here and now.

To show the way, just once more.....
on a crowded, lonely shore.

The Perfect Wake Up
5/9/2013

The perfect wake up every morning
The best there could ever be
Is when I watch you for a while
Then I kiss you very lightly,
Watch your lips turn to a smile.

I watch you lying on your pillow
Then, I whisper in your ear
the time of morning doesn’t matter
because you're lying warm and near.

Your smile grows slightly wider
then you turn your face away
Hide your head under your pillow
until the blush goes away.

Your hair falls soft around your face
covering your ears and neck
But soon they are bare before me
then they feel the pressure of my lips.

Then I touch you very softly
Run my fingers down your back
And your body gently starts to wake
It turns till eyes gaze into mine.

And in that very moment
I know the perfect wake up will always be,
when I wake up every morning,
and you are next to me.

THE SCAR
By
R. W. Thompson
Feb. 23, 1996

It crosses your breast, so soft and white.....
a screaming red laser beam through the night.
You hate it and wish that.....
it would fade from your sight.

It reminds you of something... a terrible fright.....
Makes you feel less of a woman, and long for the night.
You fear that I will think less... no longer love you,
nothing could be further from the truth.

I see it as a badge of courage, something you faced….
A medal given, instead of taking you from this place.
As my fingers trace its outline across your skin….
I find it beautiful, like you, to be savored again and again.

I will always be glad that you have this scar….
It kept you here with me instead of going afar.

 

CHANGE
BY
R. W. Thompson
Nov. 5, 1987

I sat beneath a tree on a warm summer evening,
an old friend appeared, and we talked of many things.
Of friends both here and gone, people we had loved,
adventures we had known.
We talked about Vietnam, the friends left on that wild range,
as we talked the wind whispered, "It's time for change."
As we talked I looked at him and he changed before my eyes,
Was it really true, or just a dream, in Vietnam he had died.
We talked about the world, the need for peace upon these plains,
and as we talked the wind whispered, "It's time for change."
We talked it seemed for hours, on into the night,
and then my friend slowly faded from my sight.
After he had left, as dreams sometimes do,
was that the wind that whispered...?
The change is up to you.

 

Summer Love Poem

by

R. W. Thompson

       We roamed the vineyard, caught in the early summer day, the soft breeze, 
The scent of grapes growing on the vine, the taste of their nectar on our tongues. 

You seemed as though you were twenty again,  
                  firm, yet soft within my grasp. 

 

Moistened sensations within the wetness, your tingling tongue on mine, 
            Swirling excited kisses upon my neck, tamed by your love…. 

And then, soft moans as my lips slowly circle the nipples of your breasts, 
      Set aflame as I bite their firmness ever so gently, sensually feeding. 

 

Pleasures are intense as you quiver beneath my fingers velvet touch, 
Caressing these dreams within your melting beautiful ivory thighs. 

      Then, dew upon your tender tracing tips; the petals of your bloom…. 
Silkened treasures as you journey through feeling my warm beating pulse. 

 

The heat rises as I fall deeper into your love; your cherry lips,  

tasting them with my own. 

          My tongue gently probing, causing your hips to rise in pleasure. 

We float in the wetness of each other, in the sensual quietness of the day. 

 

Finally, a catapult of love sends us quivering tightly in our embrace,               
        beneath the eyes of God, where we both were created as one!