The Love That Makes Father's Day Possible
.
Everybody Talks About Father's Day and What a Wonderful Thing it is to Be a Father - and it is. But What's Even More Wonderful is the Love that Brings it About.
.
This is the Story of One Such Love.
Beneath the Spin * Eric L. Wattree

HER PAIN:

She walks alone, sweet woman-child,
her sobs flow warm against the dark;
Her need is love, not merely passion,
a mighty fortress, her broken heart.
.
Quivering bodies and breathless moans,
she remembers with great delight,
but the heat of love is the only flame,
her lusting soul craves late at night.
.
Hungry arms yearn for her shuddering body,
to embrace her tenderly with all their might;
Shivering lips lust for her succulent passion,
as she cries out desperately into the night.
.
But only true love can quench the thirst
that burns red hot, and deep inside,
so she faces the pain, again and again,
and late at night she cries.
.
Masculine shadows of delusion and lust
caress their egos more than her pain,
for her convulsing body quivers not for them,
but for her fantasy
of a warm and gentle man.
.
So, with head held high, by light of day,
but, mournful eyes, that do betray,
unspent love, and a breaking heart,
and the fear of sobs, when day turns dark.

HIS PASSION:
.
She's dark, she’s passionate, and she's lovely,
but she doesn't know herself:
.
She doesn't know
the extent her smiling eyes
devastate this love-sick heart;
The way they dance in the moonlight,
subtly beckon,
and betray the depth
of her sultry passion.
.
She doesn't know
the ecstasy of pleading moans
on a humid, Summer night, or
the maddening pleasure of glistening bodies
entwined in erotic flight.
.
And
She doesn't know
the hot breath of passion,
as it whispers between her thighs;
The gentle kiss, the sting of bliss,
the pain of pleasure
that burns inside.
.
She doesn't know
the agony of lust
while suspended in endless time,
as she yearns for sweet release,
while desperately clinging to
the sweet sublime.
.
And
She doesn't know
of frantic begging
for that of which she's run,
of the animal that leaps inside of her,
as flowing chills
begin to come.
.
She doesn't know
the embrace of madness
as her trembling loins
begin to spill . . .
.
She
doesn't know of love,
but on this night,
her pleading eyes,
say she will.
 

Eric L. Wattree
http://wattree.blogspot.com/
[email protected]
Citizens Against Reckless Middle-Class Abuse (CARMA)

Religious bigotry: It's not that I hate everyone who doesn't look, think, and act like me - it's just that God does.