Red Red Wine

 
He feels the weight of her thigh
pressing against his

the flesh of her hip
urgent against him

the warmth
as he responds involuntarily

a heat spreads through him
a quickening of pulse

he swells and swoons
growing rigid and eager

a deep need overtakes him

he reaches ’round her
firmly encircling her waist
with his strong arm
bending her forward
with the power of his body
as begins a dance of desire

consumed by her passion
his urges hot and husky
on her ear and cheek
they churn in slow pleasure

building in lustful pace and tension
they dance and dance
spinning into a carnal fury

a great release
sweeps over them

they melt together
in fevered bliss
matching breath for slowing breath

his lips
soft on the nape of her neck
they drift to earth
entwined in the joy
the afterglow
of love’s lingered embrace
of the rich red wine
of passion

now
it’s passion’s memory
of love lost

*
rob kistner © 2022

More poetry at: The Sunday Muse

 

8 thoughts on “Red Red Wine”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *