Poetry

I love to see your big, brown eyes,
Glinting in the night;
I love to see your lips quake,
As we dance with satellites.

I love the passionate innuendo
Descending into my ears;
In all hours of the morning young,
The sound of your breath I hear.

I love the landscape of the nude
Between these sheets of ceaseless passion
But better than all these things, I guess
I love my lady love