Making Love
Swept by the taste of rapture,
She gathers her yearning body
Within the husky warmth of
his;
Their eyes closed,
They see only with their fingers
Dwelling in the natural beauty
of passion.
His hand on her lips...
His lips on her heart,
He makes her pulse dance
To the rhythm of his touch
And feels the song of her desire
Breathing gentle fire into
his palm.
A caress, feather-soft, tickles
The sensitive skin below her
hip;
His fingers,
Like the wings of a thousand
butterflies,
Flutter up the silky path of
her thighs
Towards the warm and moist
cocoon of her forest.
While his kiss finds courtship
with her tongue -
Dancing, teasing, coupling
-
His hands find oasis
Within the petals of the most
fertile of flowers,
Making it bud and bloom
Under slow sensuous exploration.
As they reach the climax of
their love,
She opens her body to his body
-
She bids him entrance inside
her mind -
She feels him take sweet possession
of her heart.
In one final thrust of trust,
They come inside each other...
Their souls, like their smiles,
enterwined in an eternal kiss.