Sitting in my room, thinking of an unlikely reunion.
You call me and ask where I've been and what I'm doing.

6 years later we're in your living room drinking rum and diet coke,
We catch up like it was only yesterday that we spoke.

You have lived and loved and learned and accomplished.
I am simply a broken remainder of my teenage self- a piece of jade that's been polished.

Like bees collecting pollen we jump from subject to subject; Politics to religion, relationships and plans for the future.
I hear what you want, and I feel it to the core. Opposites atttract, yet I say nothing, unsure.

More drinks, more talk.

Your lips move and I am enraptured.
I am Abraham and those lips are my God.
Speak. Smile. Laugh.
 
I keep silent my need to taste you.
Just a little push was all it took, I knew you wanted it too.

More drinks, more talk, more of your lips.

Years have left me parched, the bitter taste of dust on my tongue.
You are fresh water, I am sated and quenched. 
Slightly tilting to the left, I have another drink.

Show me the stars and tell me about the rings of Saturn.
Play for me composers of the classics.
Hold me tight and whisper things that I cannot hear.

More drinks, more talk, more fresh water.

Take me by the hand and lead me to the bed.
Kick off the sheets and sleep in my arms.
The day ticks away and I watch you dream.
What's on your mind? I ask but you don't tell.
Those lips distract me, they could stop a war.

Leaving with the tastes of rum and fresh water still on my tongue, my mind is a bird that can't find its way South in the winter. The cold draws in and I can't help but wonder if there will be more drinks, more talk.