[Soaring Feather]

Fire On The Silk Plain
fire in my soul
it rage until I am very old
with passion for my love
to always want him
near my side
to touch his face
and love his eyes

And when we dance our dance
of love under warm starry skies
we are lost in our world alone
arcing and falling as shooting stars
blazing a path way into velvet nights

Holding our love in ceremony
dancing on the edge of time
embracing in a world sublime
My love and I are one
for this world and the other one.

[Soaring Feather]

Click
Etta James Al Last My Love

[Trikebuilder]

Love is The Power

Her skin is that white of which the Irish have sung,
pale, so pale you can trace veins like lines upon a map.
I trace a tiny pulsing blue line with the tip of my tongue,
and watch her shiver in silent pleasure in my gentle trap.

My hands caress her, and guide her into love’s many forms,
and she softly protests not in each, as we both joyously burn.
What’s to say is an accepted, or even a nearly norm,
and why should we take time to think, as each takes they varied turn?

The salty taste of the last sweet kiss and the heat of the next I await,
and know that I, like she, is where we want to truly, truly be.
Our breaths move in and out of time as does our perception of fate,
each more alive then we have ever been, falling into a welcoming sea.

A shudder, shared cries, and a rolling earthquake of our shared souls,
and we sunder our universe into scintillating debris as we hold tight.
Convulsive limbs hold us together, as salvos rocket down each nerve in rolls,
shredding our minds, until only the spent bodies at peace seem right.

[snippy_about_it]

Nice reply to Trike feather. Good morning.