Incessant

He couldn’t stop thinking of her…

Regardless of time of day,
Or task at hand.

Again and again,
His mind’s eye saw her beauty,
His fingers felt the silkiness of
Her mane, as he cradled her head
Next to his chest.

The brilliance of the sun
Reminded him of the blaze of her eyes,
Heat, and light,
And passion.

And the roses in the garden,
Every soft, lush, sumptuous petal
Had him longing to feel the luxury
Of her velvet skin,
As he explored the small of her back.

When the evening approached,
The deep ruby of sunset,
Yet again,
Stole his attention,
Painting a picture of her supple lips.

Over and over again,
All day, every day…

She had him…

Completely.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

 

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