Her aura was addictive
Rippling like moonlight on water Bubbling over in a glass flute Her essence spilling in his mind Intoxicating the evening Her face dipping low against his collar Red lips pressing against white Lashes part into a brown sunrise Indigo lace shifts like the sky Emerald heels hoisted on his lap Arms encircling her, he laughs Her aroma drifting like autumn winds A candle flickering only for him He unravels her frame To unearth her aura
In the predawn hours during a solitary ride on her ranch, Montana Freeborn collides with Seth Phoenix, centaur-turned-man and the embodiment of her psychic visions.
Well written.
And well read! sTEVE
George
Be always safe,
Karen