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Troubadour.
Caressed by your words
falling, soft as snow
upon my welcoming flesh.
Imangined kisses leave your lips
to brush against my skin.
Every indrawn breath,
holding back the liquid notes,
will find the weakness I possess.
Ever wanting, always waiting
for your heart to let me in.
Brief but powerful
I think the medieval troubadour poets would recognize this poem as coming from a kindred spirit. You have compressed great emotion into a very small space, an excellent command of language.
Starward
Your comments are greatly
Your comments are greatly appreciated, thank you. I am so pleased the emotion I hoped would come through, has done so. Sue