Footsteps
She doesn't see me but I hear,
The softest footsteps coming near,
And the marble floor that's underneath,
Is laid with flowers for her feet...
Her heartbeat echoes down the hall,
So much it bounces off the walls,
Much like a shaman's holy drum,
But in the laymen's native tongue...
Something that I understand,
The one thing to increase the gland,
While laying upon my satin throne,
Anticipating what she'll moan...
Removing sheets that dressed the bed,
With yellow roses laid instead,
To covers us in time of breed,
Two lovers lust in spawn to seed...
The union one cannot deny,
When one looks in the others eye,
Penetrating what's so deep,
And stimulating all we seek...
Copyright © Terry Ledwell | Year Posted 2012
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