I listened to your voice.

It wasn't what I had imagined
You would sound like,
But then again,
I really did not know
What to expect.

If I said your voice was sweet,
What would that mean?

Memories of something sweet,
Beginning when I was a boy,
Buying candy bars for twelve cents
And savoring the chocolate,
The caramel, the little crispy somethings
That went "crunch"
As I slowly chewed.
And chewed.
Letting the chocolate melt
As I chewed.

Then my first kiss,
The sweet taste of strawberry
Lip balm,
Mingled with the scent of
Her shampoo,
And some flowery drug-store perfume.

Teenage sweetness was oh, so sweet,
Almost saccharine,
But it gave way to the
Sweetness in my twenties.

I remember her so vividly.

The proud erect nipples in my mouth,
My tongue exploring flesh
For the first time
Knowing what I was doing,
For the first time
Knowing that what I was doing
Felt so very good to me,
But knowing that it was
Important that it feel good for her.

The sweetness of learning
How to be unselfish.

Twenty-five and far away from home,
In a distant city
Learning my profession.
She opened herself up to me,
Literally,
And I buried myself between her
Spread legs,
My face exploring a new sweetness,
My tongue a new Magellan on
Distant shores.

Sweet. Fragrant.
How did I not know just how
Sweet this could be
Before then?

Middle age and
Watching a new generation
Of sweetness
Come up behind me.
Young and fresh and
Sweet like the smell of a fresh cut lawn
On an early spring day,
The first traces of
Honeysuckle in the air.

But that is not the sweetness
I heard in your voice.

You are older than me,
I know it, and you know it,
And yours is not the voice of
Innocence,
Of youth,
But it is the voice
Of experience and of
Yearning.

My ears, listening,
They too are not the
Ears of innocence,
They have heard too much to be
Young.

But they too are yearning.

I listened to your voice.

It brought to mind
All the sweetness
I have tasted,
All the sweetness
From which I have learned.

And it brought to mind
The sweetness of
Tastes not yet savored,
Of lips not yet kissed,
Of parted thighs,
Of opened legs
Not yet explored.

The sweetness of your
Nipples, suckled in my mouth,
The sweetness of your lips,
As we kiss for the first time.

Innocence need not be
Young.
Innocence need not be
New.

Innocence can simply be the
Sweetness of sincere desire,
Untainted by the memories
Of tastes less sweet.

I listened to your voice,
And realized the sweetness
Was not of open lips,
Or of open legs,
But of an open heart and mind.

If I said you sounded like a sweet peach,
Would you be open to
Some fresh sweet cream?

I listened to your voice,
And my desire
Was to share the tastes and the
Sweetness of innocence
Together.