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He whispers… Miles away and yet I still quiver. Mere thoughts emerge, The blood pushes through my veins. I am a muse to his fantasies. He surrounds me in winds that softly caress my skin. I feel his embrace. His hold more intense each second. I’m swept away into a sensual abyss. Whirling innuendos weaving
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My eyes shine bright Like that of the morning light I fear not of sorrow, Nor of the memories that follow I have taken each step One by one, as I wept In preparation I stand To mourn within each hand. To embrace that which mends, Repairing ties with dear friends. I will move along
Living Life from A to Z by Cyn Mar 