the touch of your finger
a gliding feather down my spine
like a small bird
it rests on my hip bone
in perfect peaceful
innocence

a moist kiss to my shoulder
and I am pulled into an illusion
of sensuous image and sound
the murmurs of the ghostly trees around us
flow through my body

you move away
and yet the radiance of you
illuminates me
when your fragrance draws near
my breath simply stops

©2001 embereye@diaryland.com