Shush...

A whisper of a gown
shimmies to the ground.
Silken sheets that swoon
as, soft, she lies down,
bind my feet...but,
subjugation is sweet.
A rose, by the bed,
sheds it petals – blood
red, upon the floor...

Titian ringlets
smoulder on my skin;
her fingers speak
of places I’ve not been.
Kills, of liquid silver,
shimmer in the valley
of her thighs. A votive
flickers...Heady
as ivory-musk, I
breathe her in.

Cimmerian shapes
and shadows rise and fall,
to music of the night.
An arpeggio of passion;
its intense crescendo then,
a slow, but slow diminuendo
precedes the letting go.
In the closet, her clothes
and mine, deliciously
mingle...