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When A Man Loves A Woman

Paradise Glade

by Myself

The trail of clothes starts right here,
To where sweet love shall be made.
I think of that tenderness,
Seeing her dress.
For she's waiting in Paradise Glade.

Further on, it's her underwear,
That has been cast upon the ground.
As a clue to me,
Of how she'll be,
And where passion shall be found.

Then suddenly, I stop and look,
And with a loving yearn do stare.
On a soft blanket lying,
With a passionate sighing,
Is a woman waiting there.

Unclothed but for a purple sheet,
She pauses to make me guess.
Then throws it into the air,
With a most uninhibited flair,
To glory in her nakedness.

Truly, she is woman,
With all that my love has been blessed.
We share the joy of nudity,
And the pleasures that we see,
As I softly kiss her breast.

We caress each other wantonly,
Making love throughout the day.
For as I gently stroke her thighs,
And hear those aching sighs,
It brings more joy than one can say.

Evening comes, darkness approaches,
The air around is cold.
But her body is sweat,
From this time we've met,
And the love she has to hold.

Finally, it's time to part,
And our love has now been made.
We put back on our rings;
She softly sings,
As we walk from Paradise Glade.