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Wanda L. Harrell

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Member Since: Before 2003

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Books by Wanda L. Harrell
Curtains, A Love Letter
by Wanda L. Harrell

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Recent poems by Wanda L. Harrell
•  I Shall
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           >> View all 210

2002, Wanda L. Harrell


Even in the cold darkness of the winter night, as the quilt around me imprisons my body to stillness, the mind within this weary head does not really rest as it lay upon the cool linen of my pillow. My mind whirls with daydreams and memories, diverse reflections of you, precious recollections and thoughts that are first, gentle & loving, followed by those that are erotic & wild. Alas, all this is nothing new, for as hard as I try to be realistic, my waking mind is frequently filled with thoughts of you.

When exhaustion, finally overcomes me, and slumber give my body rest, even then, my mind does not find respite, for that is when thoughts of you become dreams.

In one of my dreams, it is a warm springtime night, and I am lying in bed, but am not asleep. I watch as streams of faint light from the clouded moon seep through the open window across the room, providing just enough illumination for me to see the curtains covering it. Quietly, I consider the ghostly, sheer fabric, slowly dancing about in the gentle breeze, both curtains seeming alive, displaying a yearning for each other, as if each has a human desire to wrap around the other in a passionate embrace, vividly reminding me of our shared passion.

Hushed and still, I enviously observe the curtains entwine in their increasingly frenzied dance of ardor. My heart provides the music for their dance, pounding, beating in a furious and hot-blooded rhythm. Suddenly, tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I become conscious that the curtains are mere objects, having not a thinking mind, beating heart or living body.

As I watch these bodiless things give the impression of enjoying the passionate intimacy I so desire with you, the one man I truly love, the one who excites my very being unlike I have ever known before, resentment of the curtains, these things, begin to emerge from my soul. Then, my dream ends abruptly in sad acceptance that in that room only those lifeless objects will make the entwining movements of passion that night.

My darling, I yearn for our bodies to entwine again, mine with yours, yours with mine, just as those imaginary curtains. But unlike them, you and I are real, alive with desires, wants and needs. I want again for all my senses to be heightened as only you can do. I want to hear your affectionate whispers and naughty remarks in my ear; feel the gentle touch of your fingertips trace lightly across my pale, sensitive flesh; taste your soft, moist lips as they meet mine in a passionate kiss; see my own primal and ecstatic reflection mirrored in the erotic, deep brown pools of your eyes; smell your unique and wonderful masculine fragrance as we unite, blending and merging until the heat of our passion fuses our bodies into one unified being.

I do so desire you to occupy the vacant space next to me, to warm the cool sheets, heat the cold emptiness with your fiery touch, igniting uninhibited passion with me. I cannot help but wonder if that empty place will remain forever barren of you, with only my intangible memories providing sustenance for your essence, and my dreams, both day and night, rapidly becoming a whirling-twirling, never-ending fantasy in my mind.

Ah, my sweet love, it is true that I do ache to see you, touch you, hold you and love you again. That ever active mind of mine knows that cannot be at this time, so instead of holding you, my arms shall clutch a lifeless, unresponsive pillow while I wonder if I shall ever have you here next to me. Darling, of many things in this life, I am unsure. But, of one thing, I am very certain, and that is that I shall always love you, completely and sincerely.

Loving you forever and always,

ROMANTIC POETRY AND POETIC PROSE BY WANDA HARRELL
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Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
SO BEAUTIFU <
FROM THE HEART>
PEG
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
Beautifully done.

Ignite the Passions E-book Edition by Deborah Jones

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