Until the morning.
The sweet scent of Jasmine adorn the silk hair
which touched her breasts.
It invited the meeting of our eyes,
and the meeting of our cause.
We made love as though the morning
was running fast to greet us.
We made love as surely
as the moon was white.
Our harmony of rhythm
finished with our shattering climax.
The last kiss placed upon our lips.
Shivering in our warmth.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 746 times
Written on 2012-08-28 at 16:37
Tags Erotica  Life  Love
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