unto you

do you hear my whispers
silently, calling unto you,
back, you know... to that time,
our minds wrapped in poetic words,
casting out the rhymes
the pen and the ink,
expressing deep, wicked maybe we did think.
the thought of a hand, slowly down your back,
the softness measured as my hand covers your curves,
oh to mumble what i think,
wishing you only heard.
the inching of fingers,
wishing that touch could forever, linger.
the warmth of the thighs...
with a gentle nudge...
widening, the imagery so understood.
momentary caress,
the fingers, oh, to well wish.
the mind, how it does miss.
dreams twist in the night
evermore in the dark of this morning's light.
vivid streaks
the memories flash upon this page.
imagination always trumps the cards which life does play.
here, in the grass, naked, spooning, sets the stage.
the breeze, brisk on the skin
nipples, elongated by that coveting wind
the fortitude,
the magnitude,
the idea, of wishing, along with the subdued.
hear my whispers,
in the night, when your fingers start to wander
and...
your breathing changes...as with your mood.