Wet Spring

It is spring again
lovers are holding hand and,
welcoming the cherry blossoms
to bloom recklessly
in their love making.
 
As their tongues flick in and out of their mouths 
I can see waterfalls rushing from
meeting of their thighs
to this heavenly erotic landscape,
to join the warm seas of pleasure. 
 
And the wind,,
curling in desire
to lift your dress up,
and to run through your thighs 
is mischievously running through 
this landscape listening to the
long fingers of eastern pine trees play
Brahms’ Scherzo in E-Flat Minor.  
 
Look I am alive
pour your richness on
my naked body
and drive me mad
with your delicious kisses
and guide me to your 
rosy moist well
and bury me in your desires. 
 
True, you are not here yet,
I have discovered 
the ancient incantation
to suck the deliciousness
of the bodies from the curling tongue 
of the Southern winds.
 
and you taste like the silver moon,
rising me like waves.
and you taste like the fresh cut cantaloupe,
your tasty juice dripping from my fingers
and you taste like warm April rain,
gushing from my eyes
to wake me up 
once again
from my winter sleep.
Peyman
Washington, D.C.
4.1.17
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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