Teapot fragrantly steaming,
butter melting on oven warm bread,
doughnuts counted, neatly placed.
Laughter echoes as you both try to be mother,
grabbing the teapot at the same time.
Brown, fragrant liquid spills,
staining the white damask tablecloth.
Outside the thunder echoes,
rolling and bouncing between the hills.
Rain drops dance and hammer on a tin roof.
A few escape the wildness of the storm,
drop silently beside you, eager to share the tea.
A fire burns brightly in the fireplace,
taking a bite from the damp, chill air.
Hands touch, for a moment linger,
hungry for the warmth, the closeness.
A delicate cheek blushes rosy red from shyness.
Bold eyes follow the red as it travels,
down snowy neck and then disappears.
Bold eyes linger for a moment on heaving breasts,
then return; gaze deep in to summer sky blue eyes.
Forgotten now the tea, doughnuts and butter melting,
The rain still dances and hammers on a tin roof.
Thunder still echoes, bouncing and rolling between the hills.