Love is...

Martin sits back in his grandfather’s favorite old rocking chair watching the shadows and moonlight and cigar smoke dance languidly about the room. The midnight breeze is sighing through the open window raising vaguely electric goose bumps on his naked skin…but he pays it no heed.

He takes another slow drag on his cigar allowing the savory smoke to ease lazily through his whiskered lips.

In the darkness there is a rustling…a drowsy sigh…a hint of luminous flesh intermingled with a tangle of tousled sheets and the quilt his mother made for him way back when he was going off to college.

Chelsea feels the slightly damp sheets for her husband, one gently undulating breast illuminated by an enterprising shaft of light. “Martin,” she yawns, “are you okay?”

Martin sighs fondly and smiles tenderly. “Just thinkin’, darlin’,” he says softly not wanting to completely sever his bride’s tie to the dreaming world. “Go back to sleep.”

“’kay,” she murmurs drawing back under the colorful quilt. “Come back to bed…” she says, her words trailing off as she slips back into slumber.

Martin stubs out his cigar in the ashtray on the nightstand next to the rocker and stands up. He listens to the breeze…he listens to Chelsea’s breathing…he listens and wonders if there could ever be a more sublime feeling that the love he feels in that soft moment. He doesn’t believe that there could be…and that thrills him…but it also frightens him a little. He remembers a song he used to like…

…love is a rose but you better not pick it
it only grows when it’s on the vine
handful of thorns
and you’ll know you missed it
you’ll lose your love
when you say the word “mine”…

He closes the window and slips back into the bed. He spoons close to his wife, the warm fullness of her buttocks bringing an impish stirring to his loins. Chelsea sighs again and snuggles back against him.

It’s okay, Martin thinks. Everything is okay. He puts his arms around her and holds her close. He lets sleep take him while finding comfort in the warmth of his wife’s welcoming body and solace in the words of an old song playing in his mind…

…I want to see what’s never been seen,
I want to live that age old dream,
come on, lass, let’s go together
let’s take the best right now…
love is a rose…
love is a rose…

“Love is a Rose”
words and music by Neil Young
©1975 Silver Fiddle (BMI)