It was 1968, was on furlough stateside, Santa Fe, NM, up in a crash-house far up on Canyon Rd., you could walk on the enchanted mota smoke, but we, of the higher calling, had escaped it all with our little fired up glass pipes with the Saint "O" in them.
Her aroma stirred me and we became one in tantra for what seemed to transcend forever for a few hours and then we fell into a deep satisfied rest.
Morning came and this song.
Merrilee Rush & the Turnabouts - Angel of the Morning - YouTube
I let her go. What a damned fool I am, old fool reminiscing.