The light and shadow, play on her skin,

Over golden locks, and supple lips;

The waves of linen, rise and fall,

With the gentle swelling, of her chest.

The wind carries, her silent breath,

And eager ears, listen in to check,

That with a sigh, she rolls my way;

Her moving skin, tattooed by shadow.

Bare calves twitch, with morning’s cool touch;

And goose bumps spread afar, silently.

Frigid fingers, reach out, however

Morning’s icy breath, is warmer still.

Though not so warm, as my very own,

Laced with words, destined, only for her.

If another’s ear, caught this phrase,

It would fall limp, in death, at my feet.