I see the way your body reacts when I read softly to you.
I see in your eyes the need to be touched.
And though no words are spoken, still I hear you ask.
So with hands trembling with desire, I begin to caress you.
Softly and with gentle strokes of my hands I would spend time on each caress.
Building up fires for each one and taking it slowly up to the heavens.
Gently laying each caress like the lines of a poem across your body.
Fingertips leaving a trail of verse and rhyme,
Followed swiftly by soft, light spoken kisses.
Each word a gasping breath, and every sentence a skipped heartbeat.
Reaching deep within to find you waiting and wanting,
I feed the fires and flare up your passion.
Wanting to be consumed in your bonfire.
Building the passion that waits with each touch of my hands...
Passion that has drawn me to you...
Embracing your fire as the poem comes to an end.
And still no words are spoken.
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