Tuesday, December 29, 2009

A Rose

A woman’s soul is a delicate rose

That cries out for love

Close intimacy to keep breathing

Happy thoughts to keep believing

A scent of essence in the bed

Wake up in the morning new day ahead

A soul when it is touched, caress

When hands have contact the body for sex

The soul grows into a precious flower

Petals brightens the manicure garden

The watering hose pours more love

To the soaring, aromatic dove

of a flower. A baby rose fed and grow

thru love from the soul

Saturday, November 7, 2009

My Lips

My lips are red
Flushed and swell
Larger hospitable
soft and comfortable


And moist
A plunge of the tongue
Exchange of saliva