passion

I trudge tired up the stairs
and open the door to see you,
smiling at me
welcome home, Master,
your voice is happy
as I take you in my arms
and kiss you
I take off my work clothes
as you tell me of your day,
you work at a center for children,
perhaps, surely helping others

another scene, years later
remembering a picture
blonde boys, mother, father,
the sliding door of the VW open,
my own childhood,
as I imagine it now, there is
no van, but you, me, children, yes
that feeling then transported to the future present

this is not all I thought of, no
sometimes the kiss at the door
became me sitting in the cushioned chair,
my feet on the floor,
my cock in your mouth,
my hands in your hair.
or you below me on the bed
your legs wrapped around me,
your hands held tight in mine,
looking down into your eyes.
or something else - leather,
a whip, rope, the floor, a chair:
passion, love, laughter.