The season of love -part three


The seasons of love

We left the tavern and she held my hand tightly and the night was warm.  She took me to the Boebingen lake. We sat by the lake in a needed silence. I held her tightly. I put my face into her hair and kissed her shoulders.. I told her. Damn Daniela. What do you want to do with me? She turned her face to me and she whispered. “Let’s allow time to tell us. We are young and free. Let’s dance, sing and make love. Forget the naysayers and let’s  create places where lover’s know peace and calm. I want us to discover what is life? What we truly need? Better to be foolish than wished you did.

We left the lake and we went to her apartment. She stripped off her clothing and she put some Leonard Cohen song on the record player. She danced to the deep voice of Leonard Cohen. She went and found wine glasses and some wine. She came to me and she laid her head into my lap and she whispered. I have been wanting and waiting for you since we danced at the Spring festival and in my imagination. You and I. Were fearless and gentle lovers.” I caressed her face and held her breasts. I told her. You are a dream and a nightmare. If we go any farther. We cannot return to who we were. I took off my clothing and we laid together. Our skin to skin and gentle fingertips roaming wanting skins. She allowed me to taste and kiss her perfect skin and body.  We drank the sweet wine and she smiled and she told me. “Your hands danced upon my tender skin and you wandered and tasted  my secret places. Now I want  my hands to roam and my fingers upon your skin. I want to drive you into madness.”

026_26

I told her. If we don’t stop. Each kiss and the opening of the body will lead to everlasting need. I love your pale skin, your long legs and the softness of your body. You are perfect art and I want to write a thousand words upon your yearning skin. The merciful release will make me wish for you day and night. She smiled and she whispered. “Dear Poet. You make love so sweet. Holy as love the ancient Poets wrote. The kiss and embrace as wonderful as the Fall wine and the first kisses. I desire you dear Johnnie and please allow the conversation to be silence.  Time for us to know the delicious feast love can offer. Please take me away to untamed places and allow the kind night to allow us to know joy and passion.

My Winter love was Daniela. I told her often in the coldness of Winter. Love cannot be defined. Real lovers long and learn till they cannot no-more. It is better to make no promises. Promises are made to be broken. The irony of love is the love cannot be stopped or controlled. With the emotion of love. We cannot win. Jack London wrote once. “The Gods always win. Men are greedy and never content. Luck and folly to the all of us, who loved love over all things.”

She wrote in my Journal.

I love you Johnnie.
I want you to be with me in Germany and forever.
You show me what love can be.
You are my Winter love and my Spring hope.”

In Early Spring.  Led my wrong decisions, Army deployments and the need of loins.  Daniela eyes begin to change. We confessed love once and now love had turn cold. I knew the ending before the beginning. I lost Sheena because I told her of my deeds and I knew Daniela was myth and tale.  The sage of love is fair. Men who believe love is fair. They learn. Love demand payment.
John Castellenas/Coyote

 

Advertisements