Early Morning Mist

The mist moves slowly,
Gently, provocatively,
Across the lake.
Majestically spilling,
Onto the field,
Seductively swaying,
Calling for us to enter.

The mist now surrounds us,
Hiding us,
As I lean in to smell
The heavenly, lustfully scented exposed neck.
Your neck, which reveals the sensuality of your female being,
Hypnotising my senses,
Leaving me vulnerable
At your hands.

The mist from the lake now dampens our clothes,
Allowing them to cling,
Diaphanously.
Your voluptuous form no longer shielded from my eyes.
Your creamy white skin,
Glowing inside your robe of mist.
I now embrace you,
As mist embraces you.

The redness of your lips they entice my own,
But that mist causes me to slip carefully down your neck.
Again your neck which the mist has generously soaked,
With potion of pure lust.

As the mist itself,
Moved slowly across the lake, onto the field and into our hearts.
The potion does the same,
Completely consuming,
As I consume you,
And you me.

Overwhelmed by the power held within the mist,
That drives us tot he height of unclimbed peaks.
Taking us beyond all heights,
Where our passion burns,
With the force of a billion suns,
Exploding in unison.

Once the volcano lays motionless,
The lake calls the mist,
To return
As we return home to relive,
The narcotic effects
Of that soothing mist.