Luscious, sweet fruit of the vine,
On the table are two glasses,
Filled with white wine,
Across from me you sit,
You smile,
Deep blue innocent eyes,
Without guile,
Very slowly you trace,
The outline of my face
With your fingers,
Your hand lingers,
Your lips meet mine,
As we kiss I find,
Warmth spreads,
Feeling sharp tingles,
Yearning and desire mingles.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
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