Is it cold in here?
Until the Dawn
She slips as silent as the night wind into my room
Her gossamer gown sliding from her skin so soft
Moonlit alabaster skin under star that arching loft
And I surrender to her needs, for she is my doom
Warm silk her skin under my hands seeking slow
And she moans in her need, her lips set me afire
Embracing in our soft hot hunger we spiral higher
And pace ourselves till dawn comes and night goes
Sweet the time spent till we are at last truly spent
When fire succumbs to passion’s fall into sleep
And peace takes up before the dawn pleasures reap
A last moment’s kiss and then in silence she went
Beautiful work!
Steaming up the windows again I see, provocative images — allowing the imagination to soar. ;0)
