A Valentine Gift Contest
MY LOVE
On the verge of love
in our secret world;lips to lips,
sealed,hearts in passion, pound,
ardour's whispers sound; our needs
unchain desire,pleasure's fever
fans a fire,each flame thrusting
higher.In duet's crescendo choir;
realisation exceeds hope.
Love,new love floats on thermals
of desire that fuel passion’s flight.
Kissing,missing minutes become
hours from a reservoir of impulses.
This need,the longing to give to
have to receive,to touch,cuddle
and caress which only true
reciprocity can relieve.
|