can you feel it still
my yet distant love
my finger tracing
your celtic lines
the mystic vines
that fertile whisper
your boundless being
tremulous twines
twisting in and out
and eternally about
the sensuous core
of your adorèd self
of you, who remains
ever rising and falling
over my pleading flesh
enmeshed by this
the frailest of skin
screaming with pleasure
engorged with moans
this errant wanderer
this timid teacher
this desperate dancer
who clinging needs
you still, needs the touch
of your blossoming
reddening warmth
the moistness of you
the twining vining
of my ever only you
Salt Lake City 30 Aug 2012
George Ellington 