The Morning After

Dawn breaks gently,
Softly kissing away the vestiges of last night,
With a calm gesture of a glad light.
Morning creeps slowly upon the two still body forms,
Still lying luxuriously on the bed,
And teases destiny with pregnant promises.
Finally,
The sun claims her rightful place,
As the queen and centre of life,
And proceeds to drench longing souls,
With her warm and dear shine.
It is morning again,
The morning after…

The morning after,
Finds the two spirits still enveloped,
In an eternal embrace of a blissful existence.
Mystic smiles,
Etches peace and contentment,
Across their countenances.
What a beholding occurrence.
She pulls him closer to her naked and nubile breasts,
Snuggling closer to him with unabashed gay,
She deeply breathes in his raw masculine scents.
And lets his sinewy form enclose, claim and consume her inner most longings,
With such a ravenous intent…

He opens his eyes,
And his gaze gladly falls upon her face,
He relishes the sleeping beauty with a certain gusto,
Letting the breathtaking soft beauty,
Sweep him away into the ether world.
She flutters open her eyes and their gazes lock tight.
Last night’s events slowly play out before them…
As evidenced by the morning after…

They recall with certain tenderness,
The exploration of the vast valleys,
Gardens and mountains they had traveled together last night.
They had played hide and seek amongst the endless groves and leas,
They had lain down by the brook side,
As the brook quietly wormed her way downstream,
And he had dipped his finger deep into its welcoming waters,
And had drunk from it’s banks to his fill.
The water of life.
She had held on to the taught and strong trunk of his essence,
Willing it to claim her essential essence in a sweet savour,
While she had quivered with an urgent need.
She desperately wanted the void deep inside of her filled with life.
His life.
And no one else.

The moment was upon them.
The moment of sheer truth.
The moment of no return.
The moment of sweet surrender.
And each had willingly surrendered to each others throbbing will.
Waves upon waves of tumultuous ecstasy and intense feeling,
Had swept them to places they have never been there before.
They felt lighter and soared high upon the crest of the sweet wave,
They climbed higher and higher with each thrust of the moment and movement,
And when they finally reached the summit of the proud mountain,
They had  both crushed down together and collapsed in a heap of pure sweetness.
Every pore in her being opened up and received him in totality,
And felt him flow into the very inner sanctum of her soul, her spirit.
Thick, hot and vital.
What a virility he possessed.
They were one,
In being,
In mind,
In soul,
In spirit.
She knew very well,
No one would ever be able take  her to that place,
Apart from him,
And the morning after confirmed this salient truth,
For she could see the need in his eyes again,
And she could feel him stir into life again…
As she lay down in his wide chest,
In an easy languor,
Ready to welcome him again,
Deep into her very being,
In the morning after..

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

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That Place.

Take me.
Take me to that place.
That special place.
Take me again.
To that beautiful place.
The place that sunshine never fades nor wanes.
A place where memories lingers.
A place where love rests on petals of eternity.
A place where hearts thrives in perpetual bliss.
A place where dreams dwells.
A place where tranquility prevails.
Take me to this place.
I want to go to this place again.
I want to dwell on this place again.
It is a special place.
It is a sweet place.
I have rested in this place.
I have honed wisdom in this place.
Let that moment be me.
Let that moment be us.
I want to go this place.
Let us walk and work together,
Till we reach that place.
Our place.
Please let us go before dark darkness finds us.

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee

Coffee

A sweet aroma.
A familiar brew.
It wafts my way.
Teasing my eager nostrils.
Early in the hour.
Late in the hour.
Its innate potential potent.
It treats my malaise.
Clearing the mist in this head.
This Arabica concoction.
Is a must.
An essential ritual.
A necessary drug.
That opens a certain mental portal in the mind.
Yet I am a mere mortal.
Thrumming a kind jibe.
A libertine leaning.
A glad candour.
And a beatific smile.
It is all mine.
The joy and the bliss.
Because of this coffee.
It performs this magic to I.
Spurring a necessary glee.
It is pure love.
My coffee.
Another mug please.

© Ayoub Mzee 2012