With the moon, as our chaperone,
for miles, the beach, is ours alone.
Your hands, rest, within my hair,
holding me, enraptured there.
While you feast upon my lips,
waves, about our ankles, slip.
Their caress, is smooth and soft,
while yours, leave me wanton, lost.
The ocean breeze, cool and light.
Yet, I am afire, now, this night.
Time, stand still this night, I plead.
For more of him, I do greed
This, the first time, beneath moonbeams,
of summer love, I feel the steam.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 10:56 AM UTC
With the moon, as our chaperone,
for miles, the beach, is ours alone.
Your hands, rest, within my hair,
holding me, enraptured there.
While you feast upon my lips,
waves, about our ankles, slip.
Their caress, is smooth and soft,
while yours, leave me wanton, lost.
The ocean breeze, cool and light.
Yet, I am afire, now, this night.
Time, stand still this night, I plead.
For more of him, I do greed
This, the first time, beneath moonbeams,
of summer love, I feel the steam.
Request permission to use this poem