The Whispered Scripture

You my lovely wordsmith
capture feelings in your voice.
Now you kneel to whisper words that
flow like the silver beads of your necklace
sliding cold across my firming shaft.

You articulate your love soft, but clear,
as if whispering prayers in the echo of a cathedral.
I feel each consonant’s wet-hot touch.
Oh God, I feel warm puffs of breath as you whisper,
 “I come into your garden to taste the choicest fruit….”