Passion

Poem
Being near you ignites a fire with in me.
I search for an extinguisher to quench it
in fear that I will be consumed.
Yet, were I to pull you close, I would
answer my own distress call, and quiet
the flame myself.
With the sense of your full voluptuous
form held against me.
With the sensation of your lips that have
their own magnetic pull. Now pressed
against mine, I taste you with a curious
excitement, I'm enjoying your breath,
and my life is saved.
Now I nuzzle your neck playfully, and
breath deep as you giggle and sigh.
Desire is our plaything and we have not
yet left the elementary level.
Then the nuzzle becomes a nibble and the
nibble a bite...and we quickly scale
erotic heights and bury our faces in
sensuous lows.
We taste freely and I part your waters
with my tongue. The ebb and flow
pulls me in and my resistance is futile.
The heady aroma is a drowning for
my olfactory sense.
Aromatherapy is the excuse that I
use to plunge again and again.
My desire thickened, erects it's own
statue. You prepare to mount it
gently, like an escalator you drop,
only to make the ascent again for
one more trip.
While you look into my eyes
and flash your mischievous smile.
Your eyes suddenly roll upwards
and your face grows flush.
You squeeze them shut and dig your
nails into my chest.
Your pace quickens as if you were
late for work, I tell you to slow,
take your time, everything will be
okay.
As you come to the rest stop and
unload your baggage.
As we both watch, the station is
full and yet, activity is suspended.
This picture taken, a snap shot
for the ages, filed away in our
scrapbook...a page to which
we can return anytime our mind
request...Passion.