Passion...

The world is near fire,
On the brink I dare say.
And yet,
All I can think of is her...

She moved towards me with deliberation.
And deliberately I took her...
Our bodies moved together,
As one.

At once I see it,
The full moon.
It beacons me,
Calls me back...
To her...

Her skin was perfect.
She felt good on my hands,
Like a dream.

Her hands on my flesh,
All over my body.
Not hurried or frenzied,
but slow and deliberate.

But that was her.
She was practiced and steady.
And yet she was accidental.
A paradox of passion and meaning...

Every move screamed passion...
And she ignited mine.
The last time we met, those many years ago,
She burned her place in my mind...

Here, in the full moon,
My body screams for her presence...
Her passion...

The wind blowing in her hair,
Her deliberate passion...
It moves me,
And wounds me...

Perhaps its the moon,
The wolves howl,
Yet all I hear is the crickets...
And the sound of urbanization...

She is out there...
Her body calls me...