The patter of rain
echoes the beat of the tabla,
the beat of the drum
in time with our hearts.
Nature's orchestra of ecstasy
weaved in the dark.
Hands exploring,
fingers tracing curves,
slipping beneath lace,
revealing territory
soon to be charted
by your tongue.
Lapping up rivers
of sweet red wine
that runs from hills
to valleys,
mingling with the salt of
Gaia's earth.
Your hand's grasp my hair,
tilt back my head,
as lips part,
caverns open,
and desires are spoken
with only our hearts.
We melt,
two into one,
riding waves of passion
I slip beneath
and drown
in the ocean
of your eyes.
