Black Hands and Wine
The potency of your soft, tender lips overcomes me like the sweet sensation of aged red wine,
Leaving me enchanted,
Floating like cradled autumn leaves--graced by the lullaby of a light and gentle breeze.
The moment we kissed,
My mind reminisced,
Resurfaced were the thoughts of cool waterfalls,
The taste of honey and deep rubies of passion and fire.
The smell of your perfume penetrated my senses like smooth flowing rivers.
Your hips boast the deep curves of a bouquet of roses,
Your cheekbones are like the curvaceous slopes of Roanoke,
None to compare to thee my love,
For you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Here’s a toast to the memories we’ve shared with each other,
Playful thoughts of whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear.
Our hands and our hearts intertwined like healthy grape vines,
As we made a toast to love,
A toast to us,
You for me and me for you…forever we will always be.
by Savaslas Lofton
c.2008
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1 comment:
As you make a toast to love...I make a toast to you...an awesome writier, obviously a passionate lover of art...the art of love, writing, and touching hearts.
Bravo! Man of God! Bravo!
BG
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