The call of the body

I sit with you
we pour some tea
as I speak of my misfortunes
of my rise and falls
of my know it alls
of my hopes and dreams
of my plans and schemes

You sit with me
as you sip your tea
and you tell me yours
of your dues and chores
of your pains and fears
of your days and years
of your secret plots
of your private thoughts

Yet if my body could speak
it would tell a different story
it would creak and moan
it would scream and groan
of my weariness
of my loneliness
of my fear to trust
of my pending lust

Yet if your body spoke
it would yield to yoke
it would yearn to melt
to be worn and felt
to be smelled and touched
to be held and clutched
to be rendered whole
by my body's call.