I found a poem today, started a while back and clearly born of a distinct thought, but I have no idea where it was headed.
Here for your reading enjoyment, a poem part one...to remain incomplete forever.
When you think of passion do you think of sex and heat? Do you picture bodies writhing between smooth satin sheets?
Or do you think of business; people slaving through their days, every conscious moment focused on accounts and IRAs?
Do you imagine sportsmen sweating as they ski or bike or climb? Living for the next time, devoting every dime.
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