No Words… Sorta

No Words… Sorta

no words shall leave my finger tips

if it ain’t about you

i’m swept away by the things you do

the way you move

i am enthralled by the thought of you

draw certain palms along tempting hills and roll with me

sweating summer dew renews my cravings for you

folding visions of silky, fringed ribbons braided into one another

our flaws and strengths melting into one another

like multicolored glass

talk to me till morning…

make something temporary last

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– Much love, Esha