Nobody makes love any more.
I’m not talking ***.
But the seduction,  the slow dance.
That lingering touch,  a finger across the breast bone.
A kiss on the cheek that whispers of things to come.
Soft lips on your neck ever so lightly.
That make you shiver.

Nobody makes love any more.
Where is that warm hand that softly moves your hair,
To place a kiss on the back of your neck
The kind of kiss that sends tingles down your spine.
Where is hand resting on the small of your back
slipping ever so slowly down to your dearie then back up.
The hand lovingly resting on your stomach as you sleep.


Nobody makes love any more.
Not even in the movies.
There are no lingering looks.
No blankets on the beach.
No stolen kisses in the moonlight.
Gone is the lover that knows you inside and out
up and down, that with one look can turn you inside out.

Nobody makes love any more.
Gone is the lingering embrace.
The one that makes you melt into your lover.
The casual touch of the hair.
Running your hand down their arm to clasp hands.
The touching of finger tips
The total feeling of bliss when two become one.

It’s sad that nobody makes love any more.