In a dream you come to me.
And in the way of dreams
it is me and not
myself perhaps in a stranger’s form.
“Take me,” you say.
“I cannot bear to wait, love me, drill me to my core.”
You let your gown fall off your shoulders and step toward me.
Beside you, sleepless in the sultry night,
I watch you turn,
see your restless eyes, seeking within a dream,
far from me.
I wrap you in my arms,
breathe in your scent,
feel you press into me
knowing you have found me,
and like a swimmer rising toward the light,
“Return to me.”
Murmurs, softer than the shush of net curtains filling with night air,
the call of heart to blood,
“Return to me.”
As murmur to whisper
so soft touch to caress
so breath to kiss
and finally, as though breaking through
palm to palm, fingers entwined
discovering anew the fit
the feel.
Your back arches to offer,
My mouth searching finds
kissing until you moan,
until your legs tremble and your thighs part,
kiss until our lips are sore.
“There,” I whisper, or do I cry out? “Oh now.”
I feel you within me, no fumble, no search,
a seamless glide
as though we never stopped,
only a pause in rhythm to rebuild again.
I reach to cling, or is it to bring you closer
but my fingers are tangled in your hair.
I see in your eyes the reflection of my own,
glazed with desire,
commanding or is it that I am completely in your power?
Your will is mine, and mine is yours,
I think, you act.
My wish is granted before I form the words.
Completely, utterly
bewitched
both lost in lust
enraptured
captured
enthralled
