THE INTIMATE DANCE

Slowly kindling as a well stroked fire

Eyes that hunger, fingers that caress,

as I untie the strands to your “dress”
.
We dance on words around the matter,

coming close, I play the actor

feigning disinterest, though I want you so.

You, the mistress, leading to and fro.

Who’s in control, I care not.

So long as were entwined as a knot.

Tossing ,turning, sheets askew

feeling, tasting every drop of you.