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
A nice piece of sensual poetry. Is it a memory or a dream yet to unfold. Is it lust or love or both? This dance of lovers at a feverish pitch.
For me True, they are sensual memories of a younger man, deeply and passionately in love with his wife.
That is beautiful Rob, she is a lucky woman!
I am a lucky man… 🙂
Ooh La La ….. a woman can only hope she inspired lust such as this … at least once in her lifetime.
I have a suspicion that you may just have Helen… 😉
Rob, you certainly did justice to the image. I’d settle for the afterglow these days…
Thank you Lisa, mee too… 😉