Timothy Flemming Jr

Loving From...

e need to get this poem.
Let the sky fall for all I care
and I'd dare one star to fall on my lady.
Let the sun pout, throw a hissy-fit, temper-tantrum
and kick against the wall of the noonday sky.
My sunshine wakes up every morning next to me,
and on a good morning she smiles
with her radiance and comeliness even more blinding.
And if the moon wants to lay down on me at night and be stingy with her little light, that's alright
because when I lie down and close my eyes
all that matters is that I feel my baby's tender breast and soft thighs.
Other than that, nothing else even matters, does it?
In fact, let matter itself shrivel up like a raisin in the July sun
and all that is known by the senses to exist get sucked into the black hole of oblivion.
Love never rested in time and space to begin with.
It has always existed in the timeless, intangible realm of the spirit.
And that's where my love is, in spirit, which goes
deeper than a touch, a taste, a smell, a sound;
deeper than a poem, a dream, or a thought no matter how profound;
even deeper than the deepest longing of the soul's soul;
There, right there...that's where I love my baby from.





   

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