Once, the M1 led

to a Perfumed Garden

of Sensual Delight

that was your bed.

The breathless drive to be by your side,

all risks ignored,

in my eagerness to arrive…

You’d greet me

with a passionate, lip-locked celebration,

a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,

that was the prelude

to the energetic,

hip-locked consummation

of our love.

Excited by your youthful heat,

mesmerized

by your large brown eyes,

enraptured by your sighs,

and your eager thighs,

I would end the day exhausted,

but complete.

Those times are now long gone—

though memories linger on—

and, as each of us remembers,

it begins to stir the embers

of our burnt-out youth.