There is an intimate contentment,
Knowing you are there.
Your face so full of happiness,
Washed of, draining heavy care.
It feels so very, very right,
Your touch, your softest presence,
Your smell, your sounds,
Intertwining inner minds,
The silhouette of dearest breasts,
Against the gentle morning light.
Exploring fingers, wondrous tips,
Such giving from your sensuous touch.
The wet warmth mysteries of your woman’s place.
Secret sighs, the twisting muscles of our thighs.
Once in a lifetime the rarest Love evolves,
Sustaining all the testing pangs,
Of such a magic birth.
For knowing, yes the knowing,
Will always be enough.