Copyright © 2011 -
Angela E Brooks
To Row To Row To RowA 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.