In shadows she rises and falls.
Beloved in this blessed dorm.
A masculine urge of nature calls.
Touches, on the point of pressure,
Whispered breath upon my skin,
Pleasure given, returned in pleasure,
A race in which we both shall win.
« return.
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| by Jack Lashbrook | |
| Published on: Oct 19, 2005 | |
| Topic: | |
| Type: Poetry | |
| https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=6417 | |
| In candle-light I see her form. In shadows she rises and falls. Beloved in this blessed dorm. A masculine urge of nature calls. Touches, on the point of pressure, Whispered breath upon my skin, Pleasure given, returned in pleasure, A race in which we both shall win. « return. |
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