PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Lie here beside me

Close to the fire

My hands have gentle business with you.

Your beautiful outline is laid out before me and

The curve of your hips,

The soft of your lips

Makes me crazily, drunkenly hungry for you.



The fire and your eyes dance a sweet menuet

And I, and your sweet, sexy little grin

Are the only audience to their perfect show.



Trembling, my hands reach out for you.

How can they possibly touch you?  How?

You, that priceless Picasso or Monet mounted behind

The clear glass barrier or your sexiness; roped off by

My maddening desire for you; protected by the

Burgular alarm of your womanliness.



But I touch you finally and the electricity of that touch

Makes my mind panoramically explode in a million colors of

Love and life.



I am whispering something to you.  Something low and soft and

Tender, translated only by your mind's ability to understand Its effect on me.



I kiss the wine from the goblet of your perfect lips, and my Eyes Plead for you to refill my glass.

Slowly, without a word, you oblige and rocket me

Again through heaven's skies with a kiss.



I lay there still with you.

"You know there will be more."  Our bodies say.

But that is for later.

I look into your eyes and smile.  You smile back.

The fire is dancing there like before.  I kiss you again.

And again

And again.



"I'm yours."  I say to you.

And you know,

My love,



I am.