my lover twirls grace and beauty
between her fingertips
her golden hair gleams like sunlight
and her breath flows like wind
i can liken her to flowers
but they hold no candle to her
she moves like a river
gentle, slow, and flowing
i understand now the desire
that Eve had that day in Eden
aching to feel the sweet nectar
flow down her chin and to her breast
wanting to taste what she never could have
and, God, did it feel good.