Dreamscape

I write my dreams
as poems
in the twilight
before waking.

This night
I walk with you
through dreamscapes
Even in the moonlight,
the mystery of lilacs is open
and their subtle scent
caresses the air.
Spinning the world,
you take me in your arms
and I am touching your face,
kissing along your nose,
tracing your eyelids
as you run your hands
lightly over my breasts,
tension flees
as you massage my shoulders.
Seeing the moon
over your shoulder,
I pray for leniency:
"Luna, if you are angry
with me for taking him,
then take me now
for I want to leave
in rapture,
his breath, my last breath.
But first, look away
for I am going
to touch him in ways
virgins need not know."
I lead you to the stone bench,
undress you
from the waist down,
ease out your touchhard sex
and taking you inside me,
your arms wrapped around me
I ride you
to a gasping orgasm,
while my lips make love
to your face
and the sound of our love
echoes like the memory
of doves through the garden.
Passion spent,
we linger, joined,
you still inside me,
your head cradled
to my breast.
I don't want to leave
but that is not
the way of dreams
and we walk home
on night shrouded paths
our hands around
each other's waist.
As I search
for ends of candles,
you draw a bath
and sink into
the warmth of water
as easily as
you slid into me.
Standing in the door
of my bathroom
watching you
wash me from your body
I shake my head no
when you ask me
if I want to help;
I want to drink in
the sight of you
and hold the memory
in my mind's eye.
Eventually,
the sensual temptation overwhelms me;
sitting on the edge,
I bend down,
reaching for you...
the world reduces
to lips
and fingertips
and skin on skin
as I take you in my mouth,
as you tease my nipple lazily
between your finger and thumb.
Gasping in delight,
I flick my tongue
light as breath
over the head
of your penis,
making you gasp in turn.
Spasming, you reach your hand
between my legs,
thrusting into me
with your fingers
until religious, praying,
I come again and again,
messiah quivering,
salvation wet inside and out...
pressing you against the porcelain...
my breast hanging over the water,
dripping droplets of desire
on your closed eyes.
Later,
I help you towel off
and somehow
with the ease of dreams,
we are in the bedroom
laying down on my bed
and you are holding me
and the beating of our hearts
slows to soft words
and I fall asleep.

When I woke up
the dream of you was gone
and all I had of you
was the need
for a damp washcloth
to take up the dampness
between my thighs.
I didn't want to get up
and laid in bed
trying to make the dream return.
It was like living every poem
I have ever written....
I love,
I long,
I dream
I sigh like doves
and feel you inside,
under memory
and in skin.

I love.
I am blessed.