Gold Panning
I pan for gold in your ocean eyes,
nebra disks of blue-green patina,
precious metals by which I measure
my final destiny.
In my craze, I start an expedition,
a goldrush to climb the peaks
of each mountainous goldmine,
ski them between my thighs.
I’m rewarded for my devotion
with your gold leaf skin,
muscles, crackling coinage,
but the larger nuggets
remain hidden within.
Each extraction is ecstasy,
as your hoarded hands
let loose drops of liquid reserve,
the golden mean,
a priceless remedy.
Brazing is an art,
the puzzle pieces
of closely fitted parts.
Warmth flows over the base,
the long-awaited wetting,
an after-glow
the slowest burn imparts.
Gorgeous Goldsmith,
may we never fall apart.
© 2022| K.Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Love that crackling coinage! Not to mention all that crisp and crackling imagery that keeps the reader reaching, stretching, almost grasping.
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Thank you, Gary. I’m so glad this one felt solid. I really appreciate your kind comments. Cheers!
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This was gorgeous, K! The perfect blend of tenderness and passion – beautifully written! ❤
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Thank you, Tom. 💜 May we all strike gold in this lifetime. Cheers! Happy Friday!
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ha! Only iron pyrite here.
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Close enough for most, friend. Close enough.
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All that glitters…
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Gorgeous indeed. Romantic and steamy. (Love the video too – the skaters are great).
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