When You Do
walk across the room, just the lovely slide of silk on your bottom,
a visual enticement I always imagine when I am away from you.
if when you sit, your skin, a velvet taste might surround my lips
I would then want to show you when you cast your momentum
toward a slow methodical fantasy that ignites my wanton view
of you, the things that drive me crazy while you sashay sweet hips.
I can if time permits create a wonderful image of your satisfaction
that certain presence without my hands that leave me envious
of the travels your fingertips, your wet lips, your eyes shadowed
while touch, while gasp, while each inch of certain lovely motion
gradually brings that internal need, a stir I can only describe a bonus.
oh to touch the mystique whose is immediacy, whence eyes closed.
Indeed the smile an onlooker will see upon my own discreet release,
holds true your passion, such beauty to have I’d know my peace.