My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!


If She Might Listen

If only,

in that moment,

when I might know,

advances were of an innocent nature,

she cried inside,

not letting me ever see her pain,

yet I was the bewildered one,

now with a stain,

a lasting impression,

I would carry with me forever.


I suppose it is that patriarchal significance,

always knowing,

self-assured and callous,

anticipating the world to be our measure

of decency,

yet in that quiet memory,

I do recall her laughter,

it did,

bring us to the top of the mountain,

just the ledge,

the ledge that kept testing balance,

would never have held us both.


In lasting memory,

I always do replay the moments,

when somehow,

I hesitated,

and she would later,

have a confusion,

I can only hope would someday

turn a smile.

In This Moment

I settle in to a memory,

it holds faith,

for all the quiet reflection,

when eyes would look far ahead,

see a sunrise within the rains,

those were the moments,

while she would caress my soul,

I might find her smile,

the sweetest reflection of love.


There is a sometime pause,

when we suddenly become

silent in our awareness,

we find measure,

we choose decisive choice,

in an effort to recognize

her elegance,

I chose to fall into visible arms.


Today, when eyes met,

there was this eternal peace,

we knew,

she knows,

I believe,

and together our lives,

will hold onto these rare times,

when love,

can speak in actual terms.

These Tears

They are just now,

as you read the words,

know they pour from my soul,

each drop

layers my check,

dresses the faint dampness,

a quiet midnight sky,

would not reveal,

unless it were your eyes,

that I might count on,

near me,

your gasp, your love,

to dress my heart,

to show my world,

you exist inside me.

With Whispers We Sing

In the quiet, a sexy shade of sensuality,

I would move to feel, to grace your skin,

gather near to offer me your beauty,

a gasp, a smile, eyes that yearn,

it is this memory, when with you I yearn.


I remember the slow rhythm of finding lips,

our nuzzle, slow and deliberate, knowing

we can be here forever before we even begin.

While time a continuum outside our private world,

we will create a delicious passion together.


Do you know how often I revisit the secrecy,

the lust, the rhythmic reach to find your eyes,

to know the casting shadows tell the tale,

a writhing, your center, an open journey

whereby all sound will fall within now dreams.


Oh to now hold the moment when an utterance,

means come along with me, my pleasure is yours.

Walk Me Through

Would you please if you want to help me

could you for the moment

show me

let your fingertips draw lines


draw circles across the fabric

so you do

come alive before my eyes,

will you send your hand between your legs,

let me watch a tap upon your beauty,

let me wonder while I do become hard

in my own posture,

over here, with my smile,

my eyes seeming to flash in desire,

will you tap your fingertip,

so I might wonder how the pressure,

how much pressure,

how deep does your tap need to press

the denim of your skinny jeans,

whereby if I want to I can imagine all of you is

right there,

yes that is where I want you,

circles now,


allow your legs to part as the heat begins to push

eyes roll

in a sudden moment,

did you mean to do that or was that a show,

for my eyes only

as now the button of your jeans pops,


another pops

another pops to reveal your arousal inside your panties,

right there your fingertip now finds a crease,

a reason to press on ,

while your lips part,

tongue suggesting where it might land

on the surface of my hand held desire.

Would you take that walk with me,

could you,

might I ever understand how your pleasure is simply marvelous,

beyond the touch I think I know,

I could always learn from you.

Shall we begin tonight?


I Look

I still look for you

in every embrace,

each article of clothing

that might enhance her

sweet exterior,

I try to find you,

her breasts live with pleasure,

inside the garment of silk,

meant to enhance both the eye upon time,

and an internal fire she likes to remain

lit …

I would ignite you

in that moment when your buttons came loose,

and eyes gasp in hollow sounds of desire,

a passion when tongue trace,

nipple alive waiting for teeth,

hands stroke hair to pull further inside of your fury

I still look for you to know

when in a moment, I am inside,

we have worked with such a fever

to find our bodies writhing draining sweat,

pouring our loins over one another with hard expression,

we know where we might go,

I still look for you while crossing the street,

I notice you just beyond my reach.

There is Beauty

when on a crisp autumn morning,

she wears a favorite sweater,

not for her,

for my eyes,

for she doesn’t care,

she wants to be warm,

where else could I find

such a beautiful storm.


If while the ski hill would buzz,

she could swing by,

with poles in hand,

the rush of her smile,

would bring me to my knees,

to imagine her tucked tight

in garments to always accentuate

she was right,

she was so right.


when the sun that day,

took her legs with me,

through Central Park,

her ass dancing

pretty skin in silks

enough to show me

just where my hands

my own two hands,


where my hands begin.


If we could simply love one another

might we then  beg to know

how to preserve such beauty,

the lass with the long braids,

the svelte figure,

the desire to move our world,

the need to simply be,

and let love always be her world