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The Last Shallows Of Summer
By Chris Ingham

I remember the day when we were lovers

Carefree, careless, enchanted with ourselves.

Your fingers entwined in mine, we walked, talked

Incessantly, stopping only to splash

In the last clear shallows of our summer.

As the tide ebbed and flowed across the sands

Of our naive, innocent youthfulness,

We sat in the dark and tentatively

Kissed as the full moon shimmered golden

Onto the rippling, glistening sea.

Shyly you put my hand onto your breast

And I felt your nipple rise to my touch

As my just emerging manhood rose to yours.

Embarrassed by unanticipated

Desire, we quickly headed home, apart.

In silence, hands not touching, pocketed.

Space between us growing unwittingly.

Reaching the light outside your summer house,

You pecked my burning cheek, promised to write

And rushed inside, out of my life forever.

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