Loves Games Poem by Teresa Dearing

Loves a fine sport,
The game calls us steadily,
Desire stampede's it's path,
Calling out to all, mutually.
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Red sunrise, thinking on love,
Slipped to daylight,
Thinking about desire,
In darkness with delicious you.
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Soft rhythm of currents riding,
In the sea of love pulsing,
In starlight dreaming,
To journeys end sailing....with you.
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Layers of warm love,
Fibers designed systematically,
Taunt on the loom of desire,
Woven with hands of clay...eagerly.
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Currents of soft rhythm,
Light pulsing love,
Impelling delicious interplay,
Maps of our desire.
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In the muted twilight,
Inhaling your beauty,
Contemplating love,
As the sky and I metamorphosis,
...violently,
This, a cloak of death,
To our inconsistent love.
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Pointless love, pure as driven snow,
Her gorgeous cheeks so frail,
Naked with desire that taints,
Even knowing him sallow and pale.
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Love this savage adventure,
Sweeps us into a frenzy,
A mad, fierce whirlwind,
How we desire it's destruction,
It's source of wonder and whim.
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