We can sip in coolness, even wade in coolness
Can I bathe you in coolness with petals afloat?
Shield you from an envious sun will I
A tray of Bourbon Slushies to you I’ll tote

With fried olives dipped in spiced honey mustard
make for an intriguing aphrodisiacal pairing,
Citrus seasoning-rubbed salmon steaks on the grill
Woman, I wanna give my feelings for you an airing

Public or private—it matters little the venue
Once they’re released, there’s no taking them back,
I understand a bouquet was delivered to your desk
And it wasn’t via my American Express—Black

A beautiful woman deserves to be beautifully feted
Some women are blessed a little more than others,
The competition for her heart heats up in summer
But which one shall she choose, given her druthers?

Am I the wild card, so seemingly unshuffleable
The one lying at table’s edge, apart from your deck?
Flowers in your office are like a bird in your hand
Might you be tempted to say, “Oh, what the heck…”

Take him up on his offer, what is there to lose?
A woman’s heart can be a rather fragile thing,
My grandpops asked, “How does it feel in her company?”
‘Cause if it feels like a garment yielding static cling

You’ll look forward to the next—and the one after that
The mysteries of love can trump the laws of attraction,
It just may be the real thing or a Melania speech
Nothing close to that true Michelle-O satisfaction

Isn’t that, above all, our seek: authenticity of heart
There’s a chance it’s discovered in a summer’s romance,
Petals in the hand can certainly carry a meaning
The message can’t be decoded if ungiven a chance

I want you, yes, I want you and all there is of you
Every cell, every inch, every breath of you,
And if it means abiding by an uncommon patience
I’ll write, wait and create as these feelings accrue

It’s hot, woman, the hottest on man-made record
Rome is not burning but for you does my heart,
There is this summer’s romance carried therein
Am I really that wild card from the deck apart?

There’s flowers in the hand—and flowers in the heart
Go ahead, do what you must to discern the twain,
A summer’s romance we were on its very verge
If not me, I wish you an authenticity to gain . . .

. . . of a blessed summer’s romance.

_______________

***
Pamper the woman . . . authentically. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®