She is a Picture

The poetry 
of my lover 
is running 
through my veins 
and keeping
my soul alive

When thoughts
of her hit
It’s like 
the world
around me
crumbles and
ceases to exist

When she
holds my hand 
Our fingers intertwined
they are a veritable 
kiss by touch
Her fingers 
craving me 
Like scorched earth 
thirsts rain

Yes she comes 
to my hand 
but she's 
not really tame 
Yet she longs 
to be lost
and I long
for the same

When I caress 
her form 
her skin is soft
As fresh
as spun silk
Tiger stripes
of fullness 
glisten
As my fingers
dance over 
her curves
and dip 
within her folds 

My tongue 
and fingers 
tickled her 
velvet contours 
They vivaciously 
thrusted 
Stoking a once
languishing fire
And feeding her
need to please

I smile
for I know 
the butterflies 
within her garden 
full of flowers