This thing called love is sweet indeed; and making love, a pure delight;
but, sometimes all one needs
is just a gentle cuddle in the night.

Laying in each others arms, somehow, makes everything seem right;
as worries fade, lost in the warmth
of gentle cuddles in the night.

Softly murmured words of love, as sleepy hopes and dreams unite;
sweet rhapsody of skin on skin;
soft, gentle cuddles in the night.

The whispering of a heartbeat; a soft lullaby, so sweet and slight.
The sweetest path to velvet slumber;
gentle cuddles in the night.

The softest sigh of gentle breath, teasing skin with faintest flight.
Luxuriant snuggling, close together;
gentle cuddles in the night.

Warm cradled in each others arms; safe, gentle cuddles in the night,
as slumber gently tip-toes in...
a murmur...
"Goodnight love, sleep tight."

Oh, sweet and pretty, careworn Lady; come and share a dream with me.
When you snuggle down at night, where do you go... what do you see?
Do you settle soft, in dreamland, like the gently setting Sun?
Or smother, in the arms of Princes ******... or Halcion?

For, they don't care about your spinning thoughts, and worries of the day;
no soft caress of fantasy; no sweet dream... that is not their way.
They cosh you chemically into oblivion, and they just don't care
that, in the morning, you will wake... and find your worries are still there.

Come softly to the borderlands of sleep... and gently tip-toe through
the mists of nothingness, and there... I promise, I shall wait for you,
or, if not me; some soft, remembered Lover? Or some past Old Flame?
It doesn't really matter who it is; the dream will be the same.

Come, slip away into the velvet night; for, here all things can be
yours...
some secret, sweet delight? Some magic place you long to see?
Some sweet, and softly sad romance that never learned quite, how to fly?
Cradle it soft in your dream, and fly with it into the sky.

To dance among the stars, whilst I caress away your lingering fears;
In this place, there is no heartbreak... in this place, you shed no tears.
In this place, is only love; in this place, is only You
and me...
and such love you find here is always perfect... always true.

Oh, sweet, and pretty, careworn Lady; come and share a dream with me.
When you snuggle down at night, where do you go... what do you see?
For I would weave you such a dream to stand time still, for just a while;
Come, slip away, and join me here...
Come, let me see your gentle smile.

If I were a better poet; then perhaps, a masterpiece, I'd write.
A lucid observation of some heady subject of our times.
The couplets structured perfectly; a deep, and meaningful insight,
but, would they hold the gentle truths I weave into my tenuous rhymes?

The answer, probably is, No... it's all down to the reason, why
I write at all. I've no ambition to seek Literary fame.
I try to touch your thoughts with mine; to share a soft, romantic sigh,
not coldly, wade through Dictionaries seeking critical acclaim.

I try to paint a picture with those words I use; a subtle hint
of colour in this grey, old world... and Watercolour is my choice.
Others lean towards Acrylics... Gouache, Oils; a sharper tint.
Perhaps, they choose more wisely... but, I much prefer a gentler voice.

For, in my poems, you will find a single thread that binds them all
together... this Romantic's dream; a spark, to light those darker days.
A soft caress for broken hearts... a small flame for those yet to fall
in love... as they most surely will. A light, perhaps... to guide the way.

These poems that I write may just be whimsy, with no merit, deep.
It really doesn't matter if they flourish... or, they fade and cease.
Yet, if  but, one small couplet slips into your dreaming whilst you sleep;
or brings a gentle smile... perhaps, it was indeed, a masterpiece.

And, that is all I seek to do; to touch a heart... caress a thought;
I have no use for Copyright; for Royalties... some Princely sum.
So, if some verse or couplet touches you the way I hoped it might...
please take it... Intellectual rights on Love belong to everyone.

In this modern world full of suspicion; lacking empathy;
political correctness, avarice, and crass mendacity
cloud the poet's vision... rosy-tinted, once; but now imbued
with caution; less some thought, or musing be abducted... misconstrued.

This soul-corroding attitude is not confined to poetry;
it sidles through relationships... blighting spontaneity,
scattering the seeds of doubt; of trust, creates a wilderness.
The true romantic doesn't stand a chance
with distrust manifest.

This is no bitter condemnation spurred by selfish, thwarted needs;
instead, a soft lament for things, perhaps, now lost... as we impede,
by selfish thoughts... misleading words; by nuances that give offence,
the flowering of true romance, thus choked by weeds of diffidence.

My poems strive to guide the thoughts... to light a path... to show the way
back to the time romance had rules; sweet etiquette, we all obeyed.
Taking one step at a time; hoping... Will it be tonight?
Each step, a breathless journey of discovery of new delights.

But, today; if I said "You're so beautiful" your thoughts might be
"He's just one more smooth-talking **** trying it on... perhaps, to see
if, with his soft, beguiling words, he manages to turn my head,
and, so bewitched... and, so besotted... I'll invite him to my bed."

Or, then... the young 'Stud' on the town... wandering hands, and wandering eyes.
Arrogant; as his perceived prowess amongst the girls, he tries.
'She's cute, and legal; great!... it really shouldn't take much more
than one or two big Margaritas...
then, my man... you're bound to score'.

So much then, for the modern concept of romance; a sad affair.
They really don't know what they're missing; I do, though... for I've been there.
The dreaming, and the longing for that special someone, in the night;
a single kiss that promises so much to come... such sweet delight.

I have loved and I have lost; I have longed for pastures new.
I have nurtured hopes and dreams quite hopelessly;
now... haven't you?
And, yet... there is one truth in all of this; if nothing else, believe
romance itself romances us... unless romance, we do deceive.

Ladies... being English; could you possibly enlighten me
concerning this phenomenon that, almost everywhere, I see?
On TV... at the Movies... in the Media; always, it's the same...
this Holy Grail of Alpha Males..."American Beauty," is her name.
Now, there's a name to conjure with... this stereotype of Hollywood;
do you REALLY think Synthetic *******, and Standard smile, look good?
They'd like to make you think it so; the truth, though... is a different game;
It might look great in photos, but... like Barbie Dolls; they're all the same.

I know that we think differently, but... surely, now your men must see
the difference in the way a natural ***** moves, exquisitely;
whilst implants... whilst defying gravity, might promise sweet delight...
I know which ones I would prefer to cuddle up to, every night.
Each, and every one of you is beautiful, in her own way,
without the need of surgery, or therapy; believe, each day
that, you are... every one... a Masterpiece of Mother Nature's plan;
Yet, still, they try to tell you, you could be improved, by meddling Man.

But, why?... this is so breathtakingly arrogant, in the extreme...
are they, then, so insecure that quoting "Fashion", they demean
you so?
Not wanting you for what you are; but what you might, well be...
eroding your self-confidence... a cruel, manipulative fantasy.
If you want to live The Dream...You have to be a Baywatch clone;
*** and the City... You must be like Carrie... or, stay home alone.

The truth is very different though... for, blinded by the Blue Cross smile;
Intimidated by synthetic cleavage..... most men run a mile.
They really would be lost, with Glossy, Eye Candy to share their life...
a sweet distraction on the side, perhaps... but, somehow... not a wife.
And, that's the Double standard, Ladies, that the Alpha Male enjoys...
Synthetic Pammy in the bedroom... a Trophy wife to show the boys.
So, don't be suckered by the Hype; always, to yourself.... be true;
for, you are beautiful, just as you are... this one won't lie to you.

OK, so you are not a perfect size eight; look at it, like this...
has any lover, yet complained?... I don't think so; for that, would miss
the point completely, of what love, and true respect are all about;
for you are perfect in your Lover's eyes... of that, there is no doubt.
So, does "American Beauty" actually exist... I'm pretty sure
She does... but, not some Media Fantasy... She's just the Girl, next door;
She's You... the One he fell in love with, hopelessly... and, at first sight;
The One who shares his heart; The One he snuggles up to, every night.

No Man is worth a Lady's tears; perhaps, at best... a tiny sigh;
her tears... too precious to be wasted on some hurt, cast thoughtlessly.
For... in truth the Man who is... will never make the Lady cry;
but rare indeed is such a Man... gifted with such empathy.

No Man should take a Lady's trust... her gift, most precious, to bestow,
and bend it to some selfish whim; or worse... such trust, to then betray.
For, without trust, then love is but, a sham... devoid of warmth, and glow,
and, soon enough, will flicker, and will turn to ashes... cold and grey.

No Man should take a Lady's heart, unless he freely gives his own
to her, in its completeness... with no hidden corner tucked away,
where some other heart might dwell; some secret love... to her not known.
Her Broken heart will never fully mend... though he might think it may.

So, Fickle Man... look in the mirror... upon you, does the shadow fall?
For, if you would deceive the Lady... then, you do betray us all.

Or.... What Love is really all about...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Dictionary definition really doesn't help us much;
"Warm liking, or affection;"
no... not quite; it lacks a certain touch
of magic...
but, when you consider it's the concept, deeply thought
out by some dusty academic; little wonder it is fraught
with mediocrity,
but, then... about the passion, and the pain;
the tightening throat, the trembling doubt;
his love of books... not quite the same.

I think, a closer definition...if, indeed, there's one at all,
is
Love, is God's Banana skin; encounter it...
you slip... you fall.
And, He must have a sense of humour; think of all the stupid things
we humans say and do, when love engulfs us with luxuriant wings.
I mean... when first in love, how our brain softens, and we cannot think
or speak, in normal conversation... into baby-talk, we sink.
The child-like actions... tickling, nibbling;
feeling we could almost fly;
Yes, you can almost hear the laughter echoing down from up on high.

Love has a different set of rules... a much more tolerant mental state;
no matter, if your lover's body fails what fashion now dictates...
or accidentally breaking wind whilst making love...
Calamity!
Collapsing in each others arms... both giggling, uncontrollably.
Blind to those annoying habits we all share, it must be said;
Underwear dropped in the corner...
biscuit crumbs left in the bed;
toothpaste tube squeezed in the middle...
leaving up the toilet seat;
my last ****** razor has been used by her to shave her legs...
how sweet!

Perhaps, your definition strives to reach Romantic's heady feel
for love,
but, this is what you get... if you are fortunate;
it's real consideration for your needs; warm contentment, company.
Hearts and minds in step, together...
and that's good enough for me.
The poems and the songs of love, though charming, just cannot begin
to weave the magic found...
when you've just stepped on God's Banana Skin.