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New Song
When I lay with you,
I sense all that I might yet become;
the sheen of our sweat,
my glistening purpose shines in sum.
Of the flutt'ring mass,
you are my most significant dove;
and, riding you,
my lioness, the hint of perfect love.
When bare before you,
you see my many masks as mere hints;
tasting fingertips,
I kiss the swirls of your latent prints,
as my thumb traces
the pattern of your breasts' hard nipples,
our smoothness is lost
to our lust, leaving roiling ripples;
going down, I know,
tonged, circled motions bring you delight;
in your ecstasy,
my promise of most beautiful light,
with arms 'round my back
in your feral, feminine embrace,
I, then, breach and thrust
into the curvature of your grace;
all else falls away,
my sole thought is of you, here and now;
I'm overcome by the scent
of cornfields, as though I plow;
I drink of the ripe vine
that my heart's yearned for, for so long;
in you, I found inspiration
to write this, my new song.
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