No reason to be precious about it,
it's best to just be blunt,
she's got a helluva ****.

I could wax poetic, swooning like a
love-drunk boy, but what's the point?
Sharing, expressing, defining the spell
is futile. *** with her is like
dancing with god.

Finally, at fifty, I feel the
vibration of lovesongs.
Not in my ears, deeper than any sense can taste.
Lost for hours in life, in bonding; finally
knowing the only knowledge worth knowing

She teaches by just being.
Responding, absorbing, inspiring,
implanting new sensations and
bringing me out of me.