Love will never melancholy pale,
sweet though not sugar coated
as music floats about your room
chasing candlelight then dispersing,
heavy drapes at window hang
concealing dazzling sunshine,
she lies on musk scented linen
this innocent flush of inner virgin,
reaching for emotional desires
searching hills and low valley's,
for this girl is not at all weary
and the boy neither should be,
welcome not guilt in this moment,
but like an itch that needs scratching
fall into those crevices where lingers
comfort of youth sealed with a kiss.
Suggestion of passion now abides
hooked on their individual odours,
their writhed bodies slowly twisting
like snakes breathing each other in.
Inspired by listening to
Kate Bush, her
The Sensual World.
Picture by pixabay free images.