The Lost Touch of Yesterdays

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The Lost Touch of Yesterdays

Today l was touched by a butterfly …

A gentle fluttering was all it took, shadowed caresses from another time, allowing me to drift back, slowly falling back into the whispers of our yesterdays.

And yet not alone did she kiss my heart, nor simply brush my lips, but l remembered the lost touch to my soul.

Another day, another year, always disguised,

From the snows afore spring,

To the lost blossoms of summer,

And autumns fallen,

To winters scatterings,

All make for the remnants of another passing year,

And yet can l dare to explore her again retrieving forbidden moments.

The forgotten dawns of another time flicker beyond my shaded gaze,

Shadows teasing my senses into awakening,

Disguised clouds tweaking upon a forgotten emotional maze,

Standing within the hypnotic rhythms remembering,

The euphoria of our youth, promises of Shangri la,

In the morrows of forgotten temples and elixirs,

Like the million heartbeats that have passed,

Since the dawns and sands of lost scriptures,

In the laziness of softly spoken philosophies, musical lyrics and poetry,

Did we so fall backwards into fields of coloured blossoms,

Allowing the winds of time to entwine us within lustful debauchery,

Scattering the scents of our abandoned unbridled passions,

Twas in the eternal yesterdays of our aging,

When lowest instincts and intentions were but fruits,

To be sewn by the uniting of our sinful rampaging,

During chimeless times when honeyed lust bore juices,

Sensations of skin upon skin shivered beneath loving soul touches,

Journeys deep within each other’s’ forbidden sensuality,

And softest whisperings of heated heartbeat fucks,

Brought us together in desired longing sexuality,

Drawn out sunsets and slow to rise dawns,

Lingering kisses and gentle caressing hands,

Deepest and beautiful penetrations making us become one,

Our unity exploding into a thousand new emotions,

Oh yes, l remember only too well,

The lost touch of yesterday,

And forget not the softness as each breast did so swell,

Beneath my warm and loving tongue…

Nor yours upon my own warmed spray,

Today l was touched again,

And sparked within my memory,

I remember our yesterdays.

© Rory Matier 2015

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