Sunday, 10 March 2013
The Scarlet Shore
-The Scarlet Shore-
bristled against the shore,
the sonorous whisper of the sea
languidly seeping between the green,
trees, a canopy of silence,
swimming in the breeze.
An ancient song,
a timeless air of birds and bees.
The surging rush,
the cool crush of salted flesh,
sizzling, drenched and enmeshed.
Soft moaning thighs,
wrapped around each melting sigh,
muffled amidst these yielding lips,
the soak of warm tongues,
awash in a licking tide,
these rolling hips, crushed inside.
This torpid sun,
that slowly rocks the fevered brow,
seeps between the cracks,
languid, slow, and now.
Sparkling in your florid eyes,
wavelets, teased upon the shore,
the suckled lips of soaking mouths,
quivering within this trembling roar.
An intimate repose,
caught within this moment.
The fevered sands of time.
Your fingers locked in mine,
the grip of loves fomenting rhythm and rhyme,
slips between these dripping hands.
The writhing hourglass,
dishevelled and tanned.
a gulls fading call,
smooth and warm against my breast,
a treasure, troved from out a pirates chest,
shot through with scarlet waves,
a timely reminder of natures ancient ways.
© Richard Michael Parker 2013
Posted by RMP at 05:56