Our Remaining Days

A wish list from one lover to another

That talk in the meadow; its visual majesty meant little as you cemented promises made for our remaining days. Take me to the Lingerie Store that I've passed by since 1975 but have never entered. You pick out the color, let me be fitted. They'll wrap it in crisp tissue paper, place it in a small box. Then kiss me longer than the doctor would advise, the way freshly added pepper burns on the edges of my tongue. Make the heat rise in my throat and slightly swell all my tender skin for your closeness.