Poetry

The sun barely comes through the curtains
kicked-out shoes lie skew
next to our big bed.
Your soft blouse, denim skirt,
brassiere and panties
are nearby, spread all over the floor
and on the bed you are stretched out and naked.
 
Rapture goes through me
while your eyes burn into mine,
when your breasts draw my eyes
and their pink nipples
are upright;
your Moondrops perfume
reach out to me
when your arms draw me down
into your soft heat
and between us passion does flame.