Poem By Peter Jones

The sun pours in across the room
And lights us warm in our embrace.
A fond caress in afternoon
As we share this secret place.
Such gentle curves now fill my sight,
Your waist now draped across my thigh:
The skin so smooth and creamy white
I stroke your neck and make you cry.

Your body sings to my soft touch:
Heart now beating faster.
I love you oh so very much:
Sweet beloved Stratocaster.

Comments about Sensuality

Massive init! LOVE IT, what a twist.... Just as I got going....he he GREAT! well done.

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Other poems of JONES

Aux Chasseurs

From Montmartre to the Gare Du Nord,
the Faubourg St Denis drops down
through warrened streets of nothingness;
anonymous. At times: winter greyed and traffic roared;


There’s low scudding clouds on the sea today
and the rain lashes hard in my face
the boarded-up cafes have nothing to say
and I am alone in this place.

Spirit Of The Eagle

Once circling poised to stoop
somewhere between the top of the mountain
and the bottom of the sky.
Were there dreams enough to share for free

Evening Star

It was, in truth, a sort of tune
which sang a chattered dynasty
and gossiped through the evening hearts,
with scraping chairs around the room;

In All, In All

In all, in all, in coming then;
you come in grace
to walk down one fine morning.
And I shall gentle you in all,