 | There she was waiting, so tired, so cold
Biding her time for a virtual caress.
I laid down beside her, so warm, so bold.
Imaginations and words inferred the rest.
Simple descriptions define touch and desire,
Motions of hands and fingers and hearts.
Slowly removing her cumbersome attire,
Pressing and stroking the sensitive parts.
Writing letters of love upon her flush skin,
Whispering words of pure passion and lust.
Brushing the regions that let the zenith begin,
Touching her softly where she says I must.
There she lays waiting, not tired, not cold
Biding her time for a certain caress.
Still we are wanting to hug and to hold,
And do without distance what fingers do best. |  |