Let your fingertips trip
lickety-split quick
across my skin;
Let your lips slip twixt my hips
to skim, then grip
in a bliss of slow-burning kisses
the red-budding rose hip
that grows in deliciousness
with each single, tingling tease
from your tongue;
Let your lips sip its sweetness
as their soft touch releases these
first fleeting treats of my love,
That leave merely a trace and
an enticing taste of
the salacious feast that’s to come.