The first time for most things is a wondrous journey
It is at its heart...the marriage between the unknown and the anticipated
At the alter of this journey, lies our imagination
Scripting, directing and hoping for precious moments
Moments that stir our loins, moisten our tongues and electrify our spines
I often wonder what her lips will taste like?
a sweet dew-covered rose at dawn?
red wine warmed by her gentle caress?
or maybe, the cool mountain air atop the Matterhorn during a full moon in November?
I often wonder what her skin will feel like?
the finest French white silk, every fiber flawless and united to its neighbor?
a creamy flow of energy that is envied by even the most wondrous of flowing streams?
or maybe, the sensation of lips that seem to be everywhere?
I use my time before my dreams to journey to this place of imagination
where her skin, perfume and lips draw me
there and only there, my imagination has its moment
and I am stirred.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem