Night Music

by

Doug Larson

I sense
your pouting lips
as they caress the oiled teak
outside my bedroom door
I beseech thee
speak
speak what you will not say
your undiscovered explications
that I would feel
with my cheek close pressed
abreast the grain
your vibrating turmoil
resonating the living wood
-
Oh, my sweet
dulcimer lover
whom I crave like no other
allow my hands
to gently finger your desire
pluck your silky strings
taste the tender holes of your voice
tongue wetly seeking
sweet sound
your passion’s sonnets
to douse my sheets
and verse me with poetic skill
orchestrate my turgid yearning
rhythmic timbre warmly building
expanding delicate chords
articulating my insatiable lust
our crescendo en forte
white hot explosion of sound
abruptly diminished capacity
susurration in whimpered breath
a sigh note to hold
and slowly die
an echo ringing
puissance of oiled wood
tomorrow’s magnum opus
planted in pleasure
as silent seeds
tonight

NEXT?
Why don't you look at The Special Star
by: Jimmy Sweet
from: Bloomington, IN, US

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