Softer sheen of light shot through,
Volcanic red and silver blue,
Allure of sweet and perfumed skin,
Move over move, the games begin.
Gentle floating, tingling friction,
Lost in passion’s proud depiction,
With warm moisture small anointing,
Towards a petalled pillow pointing.
Random silken strands that sink,
And whisper mischief, tickled pink,
Brushed back by warmer fingertips,
Ambrosia drunk in petite sips.
Gently break, the loss could kill you,
In that very instant, still you,
Crave it more than anything living,
In this world so unforgiving.
(c) Paul Ferry 2007