THE TOUCH
The touch
Love the touch,
A piece of my heart
Finds its self in your finger tips
And pulses softly while we breathe again.
The smell
The smell of you
Is the morning perfume
And skin bathed in passion
Of sweat and sighs of a thousand kisses
Of the night before.
The fire
When the blaze
Was thought long over
Sparks taste the damp wood
And the heat burns on
Dano Smith
posted by VERBPOWER @ 10:38 AM
8 comments
8 Comments:
be still my beating heart.....
your words cause a longing that some of us at present can only hope for; remember fondly.....
what a tender, lovely picture you paint.
This is beautiful..truly..and I hope you are writing for your future wife:)
'its self' is one word...itself
I hear and obey..the correction will follow shortly. Thanks.
dano
Oh, to wish that someone would feel such for me. . . sigh.
Dano, you put your thoughts in poetry! Good for you!!!! Keep up the good work, you are smarrrrt!
Nadine ;-)
Hey Dano, where are your new inspirations!!!!!
N.-
Dano, you seem very interesting. wondering how to contact you.
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