A friend and I were joking, one morning, about the effects of gravity and later-in-life dating. She was on her way to pick up a set of room darkening curtains in preparation for “afternoon delight” with a young lover. We both agreed that our sensual nature had not diminished with age and laughed about her desire to “set the stage.”
My muse must have been listening in because, after we hung up, she dropped this line on me.
She had a one candle body
but her passion lit the room.
Who was this woman with such passion that she could light a room? Images of darkened meeting places and intertwining body parts beckoned me. I wanted to know her story. I waited for more.
My muse fell silent. Muses are such teases.
Continue reading “Dream Weaving A Crone’s Delight”
Bernadette's Messy Musings 