Pushed against the wrought iron gates
Gates of joy, gates of passion
I stood waiting for his kisses
At peace, in tension
He looked into my eyes
Caressed my back, caressed my waist
I stood waiting for his owning hand
To feel my bare skin, and taste
I pulled his head closer
Locked his lips, locked his legs
I stood waiting greedily for that long sigh
Not appearing as one who begs
His soft hair gave with ease
Under my fingers, under my lips
I stood waiting to draw closer still
To be one from breast to hips
Today was not the day
To complete the journey, to completely lose
I stood waiting for more
But there would be many laters to choose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Something familiar here...Do we know each other? Sid.