Cold morose of a clouded dawn, she dressed in her spirit-spring. In shade and shadowed recess of home, she dressed in blouse, closed and held with single five petaled flower button. White of blouse of hue and warmth of the room, she stood in room’s center, like cherry tree in woods, beautiful in blossom’s sight, shaded from the light. Her body tall, hair like sun to blouse’s white, bare legs light crossed at calves in stand as she smiled to his see; enamor and attraction, like bee to five petaled bloom keeping covered more sacred view.
Beat of her heart as she stood in wait, ready for his move. His come to her—natural and known—his eyes and smile and lightness of heart that warmed her inner spring; scent of her, as flower in bloom, lovely in air-fill fragrance; delicate of kiss, her taste to tongue, by kiss and hold, her raising, levitious, lighter onto toes; her smile in break, soft-laugh of mirth as she gazed upon his lips, wanting them again. Her move, his match, fall of his hands and hold from behind, uncrossing of legs, still high to toes.
Fall of his kiss, neck and throat and collar’s spread, and down, over blouse’s sharp, low fall.
Bee to bloom, his hands to same, blouse’s loose and free, draw of its drape, sacred of sight, pink blossoms of her high; take of his kiss, low fall of touch, nectar-run of her touched rose upon his tracing touch.
Fallen to the shadowed floor, a stronger needing then; deep and fast and strong of her kiss changing energy of way. His answer his wrapping hold, shared voicings muted in their kiss.
Her make of he as he of she in five petaled flower’s free, close and strong over wooded floor—one in the shade—morose of dawn love-made away.