it is the small tempest
that is the most fierce
within her small hand
contained more than the might of all armies combined
for in a woman
one may find the most soothing caress
the healing and giving embrace
or the most vengeful hand of anger
i lay next to to these two women that night
and as the sheen of sweat from ******* cooled
from their brows
as the hot desires fade to smiles
i lay entwined with their soft skin
entangled in their passions
i can see only the dark boot of the past
leave its stealthy prints on the moment
for as the naysayers would so glibly point out
no matter how much changes things always remain the same
i know that life is never that black and white
i rouse my woman with a gentle kiss
and grieve my parting with her in my arms
but i know i must go
this other woman in our bed is known
and i know i  need to leave
before the past arrives