droplets of belov'd virgin nectar fornicate between twins of twitching truncations;

finger-like foliage yanks at the varigat'd  vine  "making it" swing. . .
shake. . . shiver. . .shudder. . .
 most welcome is the Visiting Seed;

hear It echO and clap Its hands in praise; It is the sole witness to the baptism of dreams about eve as her sparkling lips protrude-in-full. . . 

imagine what is underneath her silken brush, perhaps an  underground canal, oozing over the rim with a spoonful of her lover's sweetest vanilla liqueur, sticking to invisible footprints of invited guests as they search for the covet'd rosette, squeezing precious oils as they lubricate the keyhole adjacent to the lock by the gleaming gate of Mother's Pearl

meanwhile. . . .

floods against the levees insist upon the rising of the waters, feeding the tributary inlets of adam's conjugal root; tis the cue for blossoming Wonderment as he teases the ear of Moisture, the butterfly darts to and fro into the threshold of restless carnal wishes. . . and the frozen season thaws. . . drip-drop, drip-drop.
  

© 2006 cynth’ya lewis reed
all rights reserv’d