When the kerosene lamp has heated the room,
The vapor with whiskey mixing producing pungent perfume,
Then I'll come to you in the dying light
To embrace you with corded muscles winding tight.

I'll taste your lips,
Dance my fingers across your hips,
Caress your stubbled chin,
Feel the heat radiating from your skin.

I'll bury my nose in sheaves of golden hair,
And breath, breath and be breathed, without care.

And even the slightest shift elicits a thrill of pleasure,
While time slips becoming impossible to measure.