Walkin on Air

Triunity of Love

Waft sweet subdued notes
into her inner soul of expectation:
my beloved prepare for blythe surrender;
yet, it is I who dotes,
a prisoner of her soft abnegation,
aye, of her pure virtue a staunch defender.

Entrance-gate to life
whereof the key to my own soul is attached,
roughly inserted and aimless must not be
like were it a knife;
nay, rather with gentle caresses well matched
in tandem excursion to explore and see.

Drops of wine mingle
as pearls of sweat meander down her twin peaks,
there to pool in the navel of her essence:
impulsive tingle
shudders our mutual frames to panting shrieks
of unpretentious pleasure in God's presence.

Crescendo mounts up
in cascades of startrek-tumbles off-kilter
releasing our ejection-seats, no holds barred;
sips from lover's cup
cushion our descent to Earth's passion-filter
in aftermath of brief respite: we're unmarred.

Giggles and deep sighs,
squeezes in volumes of wellness carry on,
fading as damp recalls of a saved sinner
tour on constant highs,
while delicacies provoke our simpleton
hunger to devour a right-well-made dinner.


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Triunity of Love

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