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.
 
 
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