To love your skin,
so soft inside
those velvet thighs.
No other place
invites me so,
where fingers glide
to tease,
to please,
to play
as if to stay.
A dart it is,
an eager tongue,
the invitation has
been duly noted
and there is,
first taste
as now it flows
where
eros grows,
the journey has begun.
And it may be
perpetually,
a mobilé
that's never done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem