‘What have you done to me? she said, 
all atremble and shocked 
at her sudden and now seemingly unstoppable availability.
‘This feels so right, but wrong …
I mean, how long, four hours, just talking and now this?’

A star, born 4.43 million years ago, barely visible, seeing them though, winked.

‘I know, was it four?’. easing back, but only a little. 
Cold wind on his now wet lips - but very hot!
He thought he had gone too far, 
too fast for her 
in his utterly non calculated lust.

But in that moment, a cellular memory in the stellar soup of his soul,
reminded him that this time was it, the time. 
Finally, wisdom dropped
from his heavenly home,
his wings were restored.

‘So, in that rucksack of yours you got a toothbrush, clean pair of pants, right? coyly but overtly stated, 
not, particularly, an open question. 
She pulled him back in,
she wanted in, my God, right now!
‘Come back, right now you,  I’m not far, bloody want it!’

‘Close your eyes’.
‘What if I said feel all that you feel, right now, soak it in, fully. 
And by God, remember it. 
Now, jump with me, four years on, you are with me, I am with you.
It's a Monday evening, 
work was a bit shit today
and you ache because we toiled on the land at the weekend’.

The I.S.S. appeared, 
did another loop, in honour of the moment.

Kissing her firmly but most, most tenderly this time.
‘Open your eyes’
‘What you have now, this feeling,
all of this, you will also have,
on that tired Monday evening.
four years hence.
I’ll sooth your aches and more.
But first, now, not tonight, not this way, just yet … ‘.

A wisp, finger of divine love
painted a swathe of recognition 
across the face of the new moon.
A moon, in effect, she could not see, 
at least with her eyes, 
Recognition, re-birthing,
something she was sure she had lost. 

Trembling still, a bit stunned 
to say the least, 
but held by him lust becomes love, 
and in her, finally, the prospect
very soon, true connection.

‘Yes, it will be yes now and then
and many times over’.
Holding him very tight
and still feeling that decided firmness in him below …
‘What are you doing next Monday evening? 
trying, hopelessly and happily
to make it sound casual.

Banging, a troupe of incendiary celebration, seasonal explosives 
cavorted above somebody's back garden nearby. All in the timing.

‘Oh, you know, now,
letting off fireworks in you
on a school night'.

Souls did the shimmy 
as they went in, 
for a first but not last,
goodnight kiss.