A dull, cream hued bedroom with stacks of books everywhere;
Arranged in bookshelves, piled on table, tucked into bed & laid on floor.

The dampness of the nearby marsh, rides on the wind;
And through the open barred window, flows in;
The subtle smell of the sun dried clothes which was still lingering;
Was disturbed by the wind, that uninvited came in.

The room never had the sun pay a visit to her;
The only forms of sun she ever receives are sun dried objects & sun kissed lovers.

Lovers who lie bare on their undone bed;
And saturate the room with abstractions spilling out of their heads.
Pure souls, imperfect bodies with minds, oh so sultry;
They make love with words, ****** with rhyme & conceive poetry.

The walls blush a little when the young man kisses his young woman everywhere but her lips;
Gliding his lips all over her skin, kissing every freckles & slowing down on nips.

For exquisite utterances dripped from her universe & down her lips they trickle;
Getting absorbed into her boundless skin, creating another constellation of freckles.

An occasional wind peeps in, while her lover's tongue & lips get painted with her essence;
She notices this intruder & breathes it all in, while stopping abruptly mid-sentence.

He begins savoring her lips & devouring the words she haven't spoken yet;
They gulp down each other as into each other they melt.

The words which missed to escape, wait patiently for the arrival of the coming night;
But soon they get frantic, alter & behave differently in the daylight.

The room wakes from her slumber;
With the aroma of tea & scent of wilted flowers.

Everything returns to being dispassionate as the lovers part during the day;
But as the night befalls, they return to make love & fill the void in many a sensuous way.