Making Love With Word

I imagine making love with words would be like

Floating in the air amid the beautiful clouds.

With small rain drops falling onto our bodies.

Penetrating our skin with every vowel.

A breath taking view of the morning sunrise.

With all its rays of morning glory shining each syllable bright into our eyes.

I imagine long winding mountain roads, that never end.

That wrap around our souls with every sentence spoken.

A soft blanket of snow gently covering our bodies with every phrase.

Each verb prickling every inch of our skin. With never ending rapture.

I imagine making love with words would be like magic.

The sweet taste of that just ripe cherry.

All the nouns trickling from the corners of our lips.

You tasting mine, me tasting yours.

I imagine making love with words would be like adverbs gripping the sheets

Pronouns making our legs weak, sweat pouring down our bodies as our words entwine in each others mind. ©Robin. J 2017