If we could only find words for

the freedom, the unbounded energy,
the love, the joy,
the devotion, the care,
the seriousness, the play,
the sensitivity, the abandon,
the surgical precision, the anatomical care,
the discovery, the giving,
the pure animal watched by caring human,
the passion, the attention to every detail,
the sublime choreography, the poetry in motion,
the silent song, the music without pause,
the feeling of immortality,
the sense of gods and goddesses at play
at the centre of Creation

of what we get up to
or down to
in the bedroom
or even
before we manage to get there

there would be some fresh and subtle
poetry made, and after

we emerge from this timeless time
glancing at our watches,
lying into our cellphones,
those telltale diagonal ridges
below our sparkling eyes,
filled with memories still in seed,
above our bruised lips,
sensing touch and air
and hunger and fulfilment

perhaps there’ll speak
a finer poetry about other matters
which love teaches

Michael Shepherd

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0013-a-new-poetic-language/