Posted: December 10, 2014 in erotica, Poem, Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Home early to look for her in the garden,

perhaps to tease her flowers,

she is a vision in a suburban prison,

the relief of modern day.

Without sight I walk inside now,

wondering where,

and listen to the soft gasps,

that give me intrigue.

I know those sounds as they rise,

and settle into quiet

momentary lapses of desire’s passion,

for that is beauty,

and I have observed in her eyes,

watched when garden’s wet is

tended to with certain caring caress.

Step further and I am home,

to slide against a wall,

and glance at her lovely world.

She is in the throes,

her own quiet lovely afternoon,

to let fingertips play,

to allow passions so unbridled

to respond only to her,

her time to master a delicious release,

I feel my hand like a magnet,

reach inside my slacks, but wait,

I realize this is not my time,

only hers in the purest sense of love,

the self, the desire, her need,

I glance, she’s peaking.

  1. linorobles says:

    & to that i applause! Nice!


  2. This is really beautiful.


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