Gone with the wind Sombre lining on cloud nine Reddish leaves on base of the bushes Surreptitiously me in your arms Brushing the hair strands off my face Nestled on your brown nipples Our bed, and we!

You smell so good below the soft ear-lobes Pedicured palms against my back Catch the sun beams, over the reading glasses My slim fingers on your spine Coffee by the windows Sits to go cold

Raise the bar! Smooth the zig zag cervices River gates of open pores Forced chasms of us under the bedspread I cling as a crushed creeper muffled voice in folds I beget us

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