Thirty days and counting, but so far,
It doesn’t seem that long to me.
Sheltering-in-place is what’s it’s called.
Can’t go anywhere.
Not permitted to see anyone face to face,
Except by Zoom.
I've learned to appreciate
what my wife does for me for us.
Laundry doesn’t happen magically. Really?
Cooking and doing dishes can be fun. Yes, it can!
Sweeping the carpet has to be done. Get over it.
Searching for dust bunnies ain’t easy. No way.
Call it luck, but we have plenty of TP.
We order groceries online,
Pick up mail and hold it in the garage for three days,
Attend church on Facebook and YouTube,
Have doctor visits by phone, and
Use drive-thru or don’t go.
Yet, being confined in house-arrest as it were,
Twenty-four-seven with you,
Has it’s better moments,
Its fun-times,
Its together-times,
Its reawakening-times.
There’s a sashay in your hips,
A perkiness in your breasts,
A curve to your figure,
I was too busy to notice before
Or have I become horny?
Either way, you set my blood a-flowin.’
You amaze me.
Although it’s growing longer than you like,
You style your hair as if we’re going out.
Without fail, you dress your best each day.
With a skill learned from years of practice,
You put on your make up.
Your lips receive their usual care.
“Why?” I ask. “It’s just the two of us.”
“For you, silly.” You make a silly sound.
I kiss your cotton-candy colored lips and
Taste them as our tongues embrace.
You kiss me back and hug me.
A stirring in my groin galvanizes as
You press against me.
“What’s that?” you ask with a giggle.
“It’s all your fault,” I say, shifting blame.
“Hope so.” And we kiss again.
“What ya gonna do ‘bout it?” I ask sheepishly.
“What’d ya have in mind?” I kiss her again,
Thrusting my tongue between her engorged lips.
“I was thinking that too.”
"Then come with me," I say, taking her hand.
She giggles. "Could you spell 'come', please?"
We retire to our bedroom.
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