In The quietness of midnight
When the household is asleep
She rises from her bed
Leaving the smoothness
Of satin sheets,
Stepping quietly in the dark
Satin slippers on her feet.
As she moves out the bedroom door
And throws on her velvet robe,
She hopes no one awakens
And that nobody knows.
She tip toes down the hallway
Down the stairs
And out the door
Into the velvet, Southern night
Where he waits for her once more,
To spend forbidden hours
That all day she's waited for.
In the gardenia scented garden
She whispers, "Are you here?"
His strong arms wrap around her
As he draws her body near.
In the cool softness of moonlight
He touches her smooth, fair face
Pulls the ribbon from her firey-red hair
And it falls down to her waist.
Strong hands entangled
In the silken mane
Hungry lips covering hers,
Driven on by passion's flame.
The touch of his beard
Upon her ivory skin
Hot kisses on warm shoulders
Again and again.
She softly moans with pleasure
As her body feels the fever.
He whispers sweet words of love
And promises to never leave her.
First her velvet robe
Then her cotton gown,
Slip away from her shoulders
Falling to the ground.
Clothed now only in soft moonlight
Her beauty fully revealed
He pulls a blanket around them
To protect her from the chill.
Echoes of shared passion
Now blended with night sounds
They take their fill of love 'til dawn,
In the blanket on the ground.
Before the sun rises,
And the household's still asleep,
She climbs the stairs,
Quietly closes the bedroom door
And slides between satin sheets.
She knows he'll never be completely hers
And with another she must share
But so much in love now,
That she no longer cares.
Memories of the midnight garden
Will forevermore be theirs.
You draw me in like a moth to a flame. You make me wish this was a novel and that soon I can enjoy the next installation for this sensual fantasy write. Beautiful to say the least, thank you for sharing, you made my heart smile. xo
Well Ron says it's cheating, I say it's human nature, some of us are not born to be monogamous. Cheating or seeking excitement, this is still a lovely poem La Belle, you keep that sensual, gentle rhythm fowing throughout and the words draw us into the couple's illicit love. Great stuff.
Obviously, there is more to the night than just darkness. A fabulous write, as Michael aptly said, sensual and sexy, and yes tender. What other did not say is that I sense a breathless rhythm to the poem that is intoxicating. Well done.
When a man does this kind of thing, it's definitely called, "cheating!" But when LaBelle writes it into poetry, a spell is cast that makes a woman into a jewel of femininity, struggling to justify the sharing of her love with her family and her clandestine lover. You certainly can write the distaff side of the double standard better than anyone I've read.
There does seem to be a little incongruence between the velvet (warm and humid) Southern night and the chill of the moon. But the effects in both directions are a necessary part of the experience.
Riveting poetry, Susan. Like Susanne I was with each line all the way You do have a "feeling" concerning femininity and how they sometimes think and do. Clap! Chap!!
Psychic wiccan Deja Hamilton pulls shapeshifter Lincoln McCabe from the lake, and the two form an alliance against the covetous older brother who wants Lincoln dead.
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Regis
There does seem to be a little incongruence between the velvet (warm and humid) Southern night and the chill of the moon. But the effects in both directions are a necessary part of the experience.
Ron
Sandie
Love ya!
Jane