The light is poor but the eyes are not.
Candlelight highlights what the casual eye
Will never see, but these eyes can see deep
Into the soul of the other, each lost in a
Whirlpool of fascination, mesmerically waiting
For that precious moment when the threads
Of love draw tight, and the eyes can stand no
More, forcing the body to react in the only
Way it can by surrendering to love.
High-romance is in the air, bodies fresh from
Play relax, curves heaving in anticipation,
Muscles glistening. The bed is not made
For speed but for love, and thus they lie in
The arms of Eros, each trapped in the eyes
Of the other, and then that unfathomable,
Unstoppable moment occurs, when the eyes
Close, the lips meet, the lips part and ...
The night is cold but the bed is warm, and the
Eyes warmer still. She lifts his face to hers looking
Deep into his eyes in a fiery communion of souls.
They are as God intended. She kisses the riverlets
Of sweat on his brow tracing them down his face
With her warm hand to his mouth, where she wets
A finger on his tongue, and writes 'I love you' on
© Joseph G Dawson
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