Tempest

First, a gentle passion beams,
Whispering promises on the back of the idle wind.
His touch is light,
Heat,
Arousing.
Fingers dancing
Caressing her liquid skin,
A thousand trembling fire-flies
Trapped on the chenille of her body
Moving in eternal rhythm
And breaking in virgin lace.

Moist kisses,
A storm of emotion
Passion’s outburst
Quakes the heavens
In rolling cloud,
She comes to him in salty tears,
He in fever
And births a reckless child.

Fire and water.
Tempest.
Springing forth upon the silk of the sky
Tearing, slashing, charging
Lost in the vastness of its own doom,
Trapped,
Crying out in static anger,
Turing paradise inside out,
Igniting dust to ashes,
It tries not to be forgotten
Yet weeps alone.

Copyright ©RMC Jan 2018