Classic Love

Rain sweeps reckless, outside wind does roar scattering debris on water soaked lawn; in beam of streetlight the rain does pour from midnight till the break of dawn, until swollen black cloud is gone. He flung open the door to modest abode as rain swept daring outside the door; he looked to be like a drenched tree toad walking in puddles across my floor, flinging his hat and coat that he wore. His face burned with summer now dripping wet with water drizzling down his taut cheek; his brow beaded up like fiery sweat with soaked shirt showing off his physique, he appeared so young and sheik. In his doused brawny arms I purposely fell his lips dripping wet and wedged apart; he had me under his brash seductive spell before I knew what was in my heart, I was his Bacall, he my sexy Bogart. Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey