Recurring dreams can be painted if one feels creative. This canvas is one of a recurring dream that will come true one day.

My Dearest...

I wakened from an intense dream this afternoon. I opened my window before I laid back down on my cool pillows. The rain was falling gently like feathers as the breeze drifted through the opening to caress and rustle the drapes.

I was lulled into a trance...peeking through my eyelids as the passion swept over me like a rushing creek. I drifted back to sleep just as the distant roar of a passing storm made a last attempt to roar.

The thunder echoed and my bed shook even though the storm had marched into the Atlantic. I felt the tremors enter my muscles and the bed gave me comfort as my muscles twitched one at a time.

When I awoke the second time the room was glowing with a peach tint and the sun was setting.

My body yearned for a total stretch as soft images of you returned to me. My inner voice became eager to complete the dream. Yot left me hypnotized from quiet cresses. I hummed and the more I moved the more my passion leapt from nerve to nerve.

I thought of you ... visualized you in a long-sleeved white shirt... leaning back in your chair with your arms stretched out as if to say," Here I am.... I'm all yours"... or perhaps "Go ahead darlin' ... fall, I'll be hear to catch you."

I stretched like a Cheetah on a Banyon tree. My legs seeking out the bed posts, long yearning limbs breaking free from tight thoughts and
dreams ... gently teasing the oak with my toes ... my fingers barely touching the headboard...trying so hard to meet this self imposed challenge this afternoon.

Did you know that the oak is one of the strongest woods in nature?

Kind of like you and your words.

I dream of you in my boudoir chair ... arms cast to each side...wide eyes glaring at me with a sensuous smile. You're watching each move and orchestrating my passions with your genius.

You say to me, "Try harder...you can do it darlin.... harder ... get into
it..... you can do anything you desire."

Then I did it for you but only you weren't really there. You live in my thoughts.

The artist in me began to paint you here along side my form this evening.

I carefully take out my brushes and find the most expensive sables as nothing would be too good for you. I'd draw the faintest outline of you against my body.

Your hands would be on mine ... pressing them upon the bedposts ... holding gently to my fingers and lacing them together like stitches to our hearts...binding one into the other and all the while we slowly slip further into one another.

I would paint the strong fingers of you assuring me of your presence there . Then I would draw your face, softly whispering into mine.

Our profiles would blend into one image that molded together like a fine
Michelangelo or a sculpture by Rodin.

Our lips would be colored in pinks, fushias and peaches. A fine shine of
glimmer there to show the welcome we have for caresses.

Isn't this the colors of love?

The medium would be of the finest oils from Italy as not to run or fade with time.

Our eyes would be painted in an embrace and brushed gently onto the tightest of canvases. A taut canvas can stand for eons ... like you painted within me. Your flesh glowing and the trail of phosphorous your moisture leaves behind as you trace my nipples with your pespiration.You trace their crimson sides as they radiate from inside out.

Then I would paint my eyes capturing yours. Two fluid marbles that reflect light and life one unto the other. I feel your form in my own irises and I sense you caressing my spirit.

Our desires would be flames ablaze with the passions of the winds, the forces of the oceans and the taming of the wildest of fires.A love so hot that the canvas flames with burning desires only few will ever taste like us.

The palette of these pleasures would be deep burgundies, magentas and the hottest of tints, hues and shades of a provocative love. A love so inspired as to provoke the walls to whisper of echoes this fire will give as the throws of pleasure become more heated.

The aura of the souls would be white. The color that isn't...the color
that is hotter than any oven, fireball or even Hades.

It fills our hearts and radiates the passion outward.

Is this not the color of my core for you?

The flowing liquids of our union would be painted in aquamarines, azures... pale sea green and the cooling blues that soothe our bodies after the climax has taken us to our Paradise.

Your reign upon my flesh turns from peaches to magentas as you see the
moist flesh of your flower budding ... and as you unfold the rose colored
petals and find the caves of heated cardinals...your smile is captured by my heart then.

This is where you belong my love.

My brush takes up bead after bead of your fluids and gently sets them upon
a pink petal here, a bud there and then a sweep across my lips producing satisfaction.

As our fluids merge onto the sheets they are animated onto a flowing creek of soft cotton and clear love touched with highlights of silver where our love runs and slowly pools onto the carpet below.

Is this not the color of my love for you?

Then our souls like a rainbow ...a kaleidoscope of the passions of two good friends who are special to the other.

This is how I want you, need you and desire you.

I only have this painting as a visual tonight. One day it will be on canvas and framed ...to hang over our bed as a constant catalyst for our love.


I return to this dream and build it a step at a time waiting for you.

Love,
Susan

"May your heart beat from happiness a stones throw from my soul"....Irish quote.



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