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| The Night of The Crow Black hair long and straight coal was the color. A raven or a crow like cast in hued blue light. I waited for the darkness coming, then for her dreams in the coming night. Tall long and slender her beauty dignified, sitting by the fireplace a book of poems in her lap. She was waiting for me also, my nightly trip in space. and a few times in the afternoon during a short nap. Our romantic hide-a-way our dreams were our reward. We traveled and saw the world of color as we sped on our way. Then sometimes in embraced love the passion heated, tender. Her lips soft and warm and sweet, her breath took mine away. My hand upon her breast as the lovemaking continued. Kisses we placed from head to toe as we delt with our emotions. Dripping, sweaty as heart beats raced we felt no pain nor fear. We were the only two in the world across the spread of oceans. Time froze in our private world as we sought satifaction. A volcano or an earthquake would not disturb our thoughts. The struggle for the final joy as we slid our naked bodies. Her cascading hair waterfalled on satin pillows I had brought. The look as she bit her lip the trance that she was in. But I knew I was with her soul as she drew me near. Then her smile as the stars and milkyway raced across her mind. Her contentment was my joy in her face it was clear. We grabed the hands of time to stop and savor every moment. But our grasp wet and slippery that moment slipped on by. After pause and reflection, I saw it in her smile. Together we renewed our lust and gave it one more try. After the eternity and and all we had was shared. We snuggled in each others arms to the sounds of whispering willows. When we seperatly awoke, was it just a dream? Where came the long black strands of hair laying on my pillow? The Masked Writer <-.-> (C) 2002 T Lovett |
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