With elegance,
A Wordsmith interprets
In the exquisite,
Timeless language
Of poetry,

Delicately composing
Beautiful words
Into elaborate sonatas,
Each rendition A graceful,
Classical symphony.

With beauty and intensity,
Full of raw emotions,

Each wordsmith
Extracts their most inner-feelings
And intricately converts them
Into rhythmical compositions.

And this
Is the only fluent language
Their soul is able to speak...

Each sonata they release,
With wings,
Is individually mastered,
Impeccable, and unique.

May each Wordsmith
Never miss a beat,

And continue writing,
With poetic justice,
Their heart's rhythm
On every sheet.

***

By Lady R.F. (C)2017

If you were my sheets, and at my beck and call
fulfilling all my fantasies, into you, I would fall.
You'd cradle me so gently, and massage me everywhere
releasing all my juices, and all my  stress, and cares.

In splendor we'd heat up the room, and I'd crinkle every sheet
and when we were apart, I'd rejoice, every time we meet.
Pillows would cradling my face and head, where jasmine scented rests
blending of our fluids as our bodies, orgasmically attest.

We'd fall asleep together, and spoon throughout the night
and in the morning waking, to unimaginable delights.
Your hands of silken sheets caressing, exciting every nerve
giving me all the pleasures, and climaxes, in you, I am immersed!