Footsteps in the grass, the breeze of the morn,
by Linda Marie Van Tassell
the whispers of a changeless memory …
your tongue opens my soul like a flower,
taunting, teasing with great temerity.
The color of your eyes stains the skies,
the windswept whirlwind of blue cashmere silk.
A sigh escapes and dissolves in your mouth.
You drink from my lips as though sweetest milk.
When I love, I become time out of time,
the timeless movement of the sea to shore.
A universe explodes; the next is mine,
the pearl of passion for you to explore.
Ravenous fingers are tangled in hair
as you pull me close in heated desire.
Loosening, lengthening, my body aches.
I am an orgy of nectarous fire.
The undulation of loquacious hips,
the lustful lock of legs around your waist,
the pull of passion and the pounding push,
and the look of love that covers my face.
Harder and deeper, impaled to the bed,
I arch my back and feel your pulsation.
Slower and softer, you slide in and out;
and I am lost in the consummation.
The tempest dies down; the sighs dissipate.
We are like two love-birds within a nest.
We dream of daylight and drift off to sleep,
as you cradle my head against your chest.