Ceiling Fan

The heat builds up
Gradually on that first weekend in May
But by Memorial Day
It’s a sauna before the morning
Ebbs into noon
Far too soon
To last the day
Without changing your shirt
At least once

But my favorite part of a hot
Pre-summer day
I suppose
Comes as the light
Begins to fade
And I take my repose
On the chaise
As peaches and pinks
Paint the sky
And you begin to remove
All my clothes

The warm sultry air
Gently stirred
By the slow turning blades above
Whispers across my skin
As we slide down to the floor
Oblivious to everything
Except our need to make love

The evening’s breath
While scented with florals
And softly caressing my face
Can not dare to compare
To the heady musk of our sex
Or the feelings created
By your fingers and face
As you trace lines
Up and down my skin
Spiking pleasure akin
To dying

Each revolution
Of the slow turning fan
Pushing a wave of warm air
Over bodies so hot
That it feels cool
Sweat glistening
On goose pimpled flesh
As we make our way to the bed

The cold sheets
Offer quick relief
Briefly returning my temperature
To normal
Until you join me
Skin touching skin
I welcome you in
To my embrace
Once again pulses race
And we heat up the place
As if Summer needs help
Pushing Spring out the door

No matter how many
Times before
We’ve fallen to the floor
Or the bed or the tub
Or wherever
There’s nothing that reminds me of you
Quite like seeing
A fan slowly turning
Leaving me yearning
For the press of your heat
Against mine

While I love when the air
Turns cold again
Giving me reason
To snuggle closer to you
My favorite season
Is when it’s just warm enough
For the ceiling fan
To be on

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