After Winter, Spring
I walked down the corridors of life,
knowing exactly where I was going
until, one day, I turned a corner.
Disoriented, I opened doors at random,
squinting at overwhelming sunshine
or writhing shapes in darkness.
My mind invaded by some crazed imp,
some drugged-out djinn that had escaped its confines,
I found myself in dreamland.
The doors all closed behind me...
with a slam, or with a firm, low click.
Drained of all joy, my thirst grew and grew,
a flame fueled by some abstract need
I could not put my finger on...
Then, a soft knock. A warm, gentle breath
blew on my door, the air grown sultry
at such speed I had no power to resist
your insistent touch, bringing in Spring.
You woke me with a gentle invitation
into your world of sonnets and panties.
Our conversation meandered, a brook rippling
melodious over boulders of hidden meaning.
Was it you who opened with a question,
or was it I inviting you to picture my desire?
Awkward and shy eddied together with brazen and wanton.
Patient, you pried away hesitation, my petals
falling open as you showed me your columned passion
fisted and cradled in your fingers.
My lips ached for it, my tongue
hungered for that velvet, to slide
around its ridge and dip into its crevice.
You distracted me with talk of irony, rhyme, and meter
while coaxing my other nipple into your mouth--
the ardent suckling pulled twixt my thighs.
The melody flowed freeform from your fingers
as my rivers grew viscous between swollen banks.
Our waters mixed and flooded corridors,
drenching parched earth, quenching the
thirsting roots of my desire.