or is it the touch of your warm hands
slightly stroking, tenderly provoking
either way--bumps raise on ivory skin
soft sighs...escape through moistened lips
beads glisten like dew in the morning sun
sheets twists as love tumbles
in the paleness of the moon's light
music plays...in our minds
as rhythmically we move
a dance we have danced before
but each time like the first
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
1 comment:
Ahh such bliss! Nice!!
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