Some say women of your age should be untouched by May and numb to sensuality, happy with the satisfactions of a life as modest matron, grandma, wife.
But you, dear rebel, late to bloom embrace me in this quiet room and dare reach out to seize your right to feel your body's deep delight
while I, stirred by your urgent quest, kiss your lips, your neck, your breasts, and clutch your sweet September fire with all the blaze of May's desire.