Sigh at the Time Clock

Toil I must under the itinerant sun,
broiling hours of earning.
Home to eat and sleep,
maybe a kind word
shared now and again
with her.
But never am I
where I wish 2 be.
In you now.
Whoever you are.

There is you out there,
timeless bliss in a bra,
dangled by a smiling fingertip.
Fleeting time washes away
the grime of the labor
for her
as we kiss.
That softest whisper
I love you
tingly in yur ear.
Lovingly lent unabashed
not just mumbled sing-song.

Enticing me somewhere
there is only you
biting the corner
of your rouge lips.
Lay it down to you I shall,
my bright-eyed, wide-eyed,
sexy soul, youthful, in its wants
and urgency to have.
Fear not the seasoning of my soul,
and her.
Between us the act is new
and desired completely.

Beckoning to me as I leave
is the brilliance of 'that' you!
Unknown and physically unsought.
But longed for. Yearned. Craved.
That brilliance, first light
upon our exposed skins, as I suppose,
not hers,
blinds me with the new knowledge
of what was and should be,
could be,
was not
all the nights at home before.
Only wished for
but out there,
with you.