My Lasting Minutes

Down in the holler where the honeysuckle grows,
I swore I’d keep the good fight, keep my britches closed.
A man of the ridge, raised on hard work an’ prayer,
set on the straight path—wouldn’t stumble or stray.

But Lord, that woman came like a fever at night,
soft smile, hungry eyes, pure sinful delight.
She’d pass with a sway, hips rollin’ so slow,
every glance she threw me makin’ my will run low.

A wink from them long-lashed lids, soft words on her sweet-moist lips—
“Hey there, mountain man”—an’ my resistance slips.
Warm breath in my neck as she’d lean in close,
“I been thinkin’ on you” she said, as she stirred my bones.

I prayed hard by the trees, knees in the dirt an’ pine,
“Keep me from this woman Lord, this creature divine.”
Night after night she kept me tossin’ in me bed,
Mind full of her nearness, the things we left unsaid.

The hunter in me who’d tasted Eve’s sweet fruit
started gnawin’ at the reins, wantin’ to pursue.
Inch by inch she lured me with her glance an’ her touch
till the last of my resolve weren’t worth very much.

One long golden evening she came to me alone,
draped herself over me, soft an’ warm as home.
Breathed in my ear, “Quit fightin’, sugar… just let go,”
an’ every bit of chivalry simply melted like snow.

I gave up the prayers, the fightin’, in me head,
and sank into her arms an’ let this sinner be led.
She claimed what I’d guarded so long an’ so tight—
till we broke like storm clouds over the ridge that night.

Now I walk these ridges, but I ain’t the same no more—
spellbound now by her beauty, her depths, her wide open door.
She took the fighter, the hunter, the flawed hungry soul,
an’ I rest easy now in her fold—body, heart, an’ whole.