My lover's warm breath:
quiet air brushes past my cheek
as rustling grass blows.
His thigh heavy on my waist
My hand stilled on his shoulder.
Ah that peaceful easy feeling...love at rest after all that play. You've worn me out yet my love is endless. Stilled now at your shoulder yet still dreaming of caressing you all over...the calm before the storm. See...the dawn...rising. Rising! love Donall Donall
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...Yes, the morning just rests on his shoulders, like I do, many a times, we ignore each other.: -)