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"When a poem or story is created, the veil between what is being felt and what is being written is lifted and you are, at once, walking amidst the ethereal. When the mind and the mist come together to form a picture with words or to elicit a feeling with rhythm and rhyme, you have been transported to the world of possibilities, a place that defies the rules of order and invites you to walk among the complexities of meer thought."

Thursday, December 14, 2017

THE VIOLINS ARE PLAYING






The violins are playing, dear.
The music is saying it so clear.
But, you cannot understand it, I fear.
I simply hope that someday you can listen and hear.

The roses are blooming with fragrance, dear.
The aroma puts me into a gay trance-like sphere.
But you smell the rose and then the magic disappears.
I simply wish you chose to embrace the gift shared here.

The wind is blowing gently against my skin, dear.
The feeling I am part of what's always been, comes near.
I can hear their voices as they sing softly into my ear.
I simply want you listen closely, their songs are sincere.

I am touching you dear, and letting my fingers explore.
I desire your kisses filled with passion, nothing more.
Lips that touch, suckle, the taste of love is ours to savor.
Lips against the skin, gentle, across the jaw-line, I implore.

I can hear the music of my heart playing softly, my dear.
As your tongue traces love notes and goose-bumps appear.
You smell like a man should, musky... with a bit of austere.
I need for you to understand what your kisses should revere.

They show grace with the time you take to linger o'er me
They take all honor and love to their highest degree.
Nothing but your long passionate kisses will my heart free.
I am confident you will unlock the door, you alone possess the key.

Come now, listen to the music of our love make a beautiful sound.
Come and smell the delight of fragrant passion dancing all around.
Come dear, feel the breeze against your skin as we lie upon the ground.
Come here and let your touch explore, there is a treasure to be found.

I shall open the heavens so you can hear their symphony.
I shall call down the breezes to cool the fire between you and me.
I shall open the bloom gently, the delicate petals only your eyes can see.
I shall offer myself to you, dear, to give me your love so passionately.


 M TERESA CLAYTON





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