Evocation Poem by Cherryl Delan

Shackled at the wrists,
Chaos stirs in her slumber.
A wicked smile plays upon her scarlet lips.

A sound.
She hears that music again.
A distant song calls her name,
teasing her somnambulant thoughts,
beckoning her to waken.


The clock ticks.
The hands of time are ever restless.

With eyes still closed,
she bids you to her -
her bard,
her sweet, sweet poet.

Come hither, she calls;
a soft whisper barely heard,
a gentle caress, a feathery kiss.
Come.
And she holds out her lovely hand.

A touch.
The slightest meeting of skin and skin,
of velvet and of silk.

A moment's release,
a brief interlude,
a groan.

Throats tighten as passions are restrained.
Beauty held in check threatens to escape.

Flames dance in her eyes of twilight as
they open to meet yours.
Desire burns in those dark pools.
A longing, a yearning
mirrored in the depths of your gaze.

The same thirst, the same hunger.

The world spins into raging storms...
as she strains against her golden chains.