Times Oldest Dance.
Your hands, like fire, Burns a path, Across my body. The sweet song, My heart sings, At your nearness. Shadows cast by the fire, Upon your face, Doesn't hide the warmth of your lips. Mouth leaving trails, On my bare skin, Sending shiver, with each taste. Shaking hands, Touching, revealing, Your desire. As desire mounts, To an unbareable pitch, Our hearts make music. As our bodies move, In times oldest dance, In perfect release. Written December 6th, 2001 © on Dec 06 2001 12:32 PM PST, Phyllis Thompson 18 • 0 • 16
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"Your hands, like fire,..."