Next door I hear the Scottish man
building a patio for my neighbour.
His accent intrigues me, conjures
an image of a rugged kilt-clad Goth.
I’m transported to that night in the Highlands
when I almost lost my virginity.
Then you appear, plant a kiss
on my neck, just behind my ear.
You crouch on the grass beside my chair,
making of me a Madonna of the Rocks.
You hear the builder, and tease me.
You know exactly where my thoughts have lead.
And they disappear,
the fantasies, the memories,
when you sit in front of me
smiling and joking,
teasing and poking,
entertaining and worshipping me.
It’s more than I ever dared expect of love,
The way you wrap your arms around me
like ribbon around a gift, embracing all of me,
accepting, comforting, protecting, forgiving me all
and wanting to give me every fine thing I don’t deserve,
and haven’t earned.
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