My New Bride
As I lay in sleep's sweet caress
she places a kiss on my lips.
And as her moist lips gently press
I feel a movement in her hips.
A playful tug and her bra slips,
and smiles instantly fill the room.
For as our sweat mingles and drips,
my new bride makes love to her groom.
Her soft, gentle hands massage me
as I rise to the occasion.
And opening my eyes, I see
that my bride needs no persuasion.
Factoring in love's equation,
we weave wishes upon hope's loom.
And on this joyous occasion,
my new bride makes love to her groom.
Soon sunrise paints the morning sky,
and the songbirds begin to sing.
And passion morphs into a sigh
as she makes me feel like a king.
On her left hand, she wears my ring,
and she smells of roses in bloom.
While we wrestle with sheets that cling,
my new bride makes love to her groom.
Our hearts and souls merge, taking wing,
fueled by the scent of perfume.
And upon the first day of spring,
my new bride makes love to her groom.
(Ballade)
4/7/2015
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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