Sunday, 14 October 2012

Brushing his Heart

Tips of her finger
on the edge of her gentle lips
his hands caressing her all
around her curving hips

With a heartbeating
faster than a beating drum
he takes her off her feet
dancing her around the room

Her hair gently falls
down like a ball room gown
his eyes pierce hers
moving away her old disguise

Such are the sounds
softening his words
spoken with such thought
nothing else is heard

His gift to her
is appreciation of beauty
of all that she is
hers to him
is the passion he gives

As movement of the other
fills them both up inside
gentle are her hips
that move him through the dark
igniting his spark
feeding the wild

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