“The coming storm”
The coming storm.
Her lustful glances left me condemned to fall into the harmony of her smile. She was a rare desert flower that dazzled me with flattering words.
She whispered to me with a softness of a innocent angel voice, making me wish to live and die in her words. Dear Poet, write me a poem. Make the poem sweet and where love flourish and arose to destroy sadness and disappointment.
Beautiful Katie, you released your veil,
showing me ivory skin of Winter.
I saw heaven in clear blue eyes and
the perfection of your womanly body.
I wish to caress your auburn hair with my wanting hands.
You made me bold and fearless once again.
I know you would be a coming storm,
love would rise and fall in your warm embrace and sweet kiss.
She gave me a devilish smile and asked me. I like the elements of the poem.
You wrote of the ending before the first act of love.
Does my love reveal decay before the first true kiss?
Old Poet smiled and he told her. I hold relics of love abandoned.
Love attained take time my sweet Katie. Let’s make no promises till
we allow the midnight moon and sun to meet.
She falls softly into accepting arms. Her silence mean yes when new boundaries
of love are being built.