Sunday, May 10, 2009

arabian nights

Let me be your Scheherazade
your breath, your blood, your life,
weaving tales of desire
through the jasmine scented night.
I will worship you alone
dark sultan of my dreams,
if you whisper, your voice like velvet,
of pleasures yet unknown.
I shall surrender willingly
as your hands possess,
strong and firm upon my skin
yet soft as silks caress.
I will kneel before you,
grant your every wish,
I will give you everything
if you allow me this.
Let me be your Scheherazade,
lie back on velvet pillows
and I will dance the seven veils
in silken swirling billows.
Let me be your lotus,
sweet, tender and pale,
a dewey petaled flower
that opens delicately
at dusks darkening hour.
Let me be your Scheherazade
a gift like desert rain
to trace in grace your dark skin
with locks of raven mane.
I will deliver un-ending delights
throughout the sultry night,
the nectar of mango upon your lips
combined with hungry kiss.
In the corner, over charcoal
amber resin glows
an ancient scent as dark and deep
as the Niles water flows.
I will be your mystery
like the sacred shadowed halls
where history reveals itself
and the pyramids secrets live.
Let me be your Scheherazade
for I have much to tell you...
and even more to give.

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