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Copyright © 2011 - Angela E Brooks

About Me

To Row To Row To Row

A singular Sunday in dappled space

On rivers bright with painted craft

Painted people all along the banks

Young men and maidens –

Off To Row, To Row, To Row.

Setting off, slipping sensuously downstream

She trailing fingers through the water

He moving muscles, seeking a spot

She smiles dreamily, lies back, watching the skies

Secretly scheming behind her smile,

She sees her future in her lovers eyes.

They come to rest far from prying eyes

And find their private Heaven, here on earth

Now, lying languorously within his embrace

Amongst the clover and the meadowsweet

Birdsong provides music for their ecstasy.

As these two become one – under the Summer sun.

As the day drifts towards the evening

Our lovers now return, all aglow

He, muscles straining, she, flushed and strong,

My Love, he said, in a voice hoarse with love

Please be mine forever, To Row, To Row, To Row.