Remember walking home in the rain,
Our damp shoes held in soft hands
As our feet swished through the rushing
Gutters of refreshing spring rains,
Long wet locks clung to your cheeks
And dripped in sensuous trails
Along your sodden green t-shirt,
A warm wet skin clinging smoothly
As we kicked and splashed our giggles
Beneath dark windows of the deaf.
Up the hill, our feet caressing old cobbles,
Through the darkness of your ginnell,
But we strolled in arms beyond your house
And onto the lush velvet of the common,
Spraying shards of desire from every tussock.
You swang laughter over your shoulder,
Ran headlong through the undergrowth
As the chill warmth of spring rain coursed
In delicious rivulets across your smiling face,
kissing your shining eyelids in the dark.
Beneath the oak, the one by the dipping dell
Where we’d picnicked that day we bunked off
And spent the day in the warmth of grassy hugs,
You pulled me close, ran hands sticky with rain
Tactile over my sodden jeans, kisses imploding
On storm engorged lips, as my hands traced
Shivers over moist goosebumped thighs,
Pressing the softened down with insinuating
Urgency; your moisture’s warmth an urgent
Contrast to your skin’s chilled rivulets.
Dark in the silent drumming of the moor,
Our refuge beneath the oak’s dripping arc,
Bending in echoed urgency into each other,
Fingers creating passionate folds of fabric
Whilst we etched bark patterns on your back,
A mossy imprint, a reminder of desire’s deluge,
Of the thrilling lust of underwear swept away
Beneath midnight’s pressing monsoon skies.
We walk gently home, cold wet hands warmed,
Lust clinging as close as saturated clothing.