they meet again
in the same place
at the same time.
neither of them invited,
yet simultaneously showing up anyway.
she closes her eyes to feel Her.
opens her eyes to pray.
gets lost in every line of Her,
anticipating Her touch of the day.
She turns slightly towards her
enough to acknowledge
that she's there,
then inconspicously tucks back
a piece of hair behind her ear,
an action so common to others there,
but a sensual sweep of her senses
as She knows so well.
She returns to the business at hand
knowing that she's just waiting patiently
in the backdrop of present company
while She continues working the
figurative stage confidently.
in a moment awaited,
Her perfume makes its way
into the core of her mind as
Her body language advances
from business to pleasure
motioning her to follow closely behind.
when they reach the destination,
She approaches her with determination,
gently grazing her hand.
she follows into the dark passages
where so many memories
with Her have been planned.
She leads her into Her place,
corners her in Her embrace.
she falls into Her body
letting Her take every breath
into the mysterious labyrinth
each moment's kiss
delightfully orchestrated rage
of carefully postured passion,
art's brush upon a lover's page.
body to body,
pressed roses between
cotton parchment prints of heat,
surging upwards and
mingling the rapture
of day thoughts into
sweeping emotions into a rolling wave,
tsunami tumbling foward
overtaking crumbling walls
as inhibition falls,
and by the stroke of ten
fingers upon keys softly playing
muffled notes of music
long laying between sheets
she forces herself into Her shoulders,
mouth gripping the fabric over her skin,
shuttering in a moment's rush between
the rise and fall of a harmonic pattern
so filled with emotional hues
that such a moment in paradise
can only be likened in memory
to melodies captured in the fingertips
of the one stroking her sax and
playing the blues.