I watch him walk,
a little flat of foot but oh so sharp of mind,
he wanders the corridor of my fantasy.
I could feast forever on the magic glimpsed behind
those icy eyes, but with promised imps dancing
he flashes that smile, every nerve-end entrancing.

His mouth on mine, an instant trigger
of desire, wanting him inside, pulsing ever bigger,
his smell, his taste, I will them on to linger,
pleasure erupts at the touch of his finger.

With him over me his face I try to read,
yet perhaps the truth I dread.
In the sensuous fug there is only that sweet burning
of slow release from which there is no turning,
I have no will left of my own
I am more his with each involuntary moan.

He makes me laugh his stories telling,
jewel-encrusted ideas spill forth and glisten,
every fibre gem-shot and compelling.
He bedazzles, fizzes, rockets in my space,
I walk in winged sandals along the diamond-strewn
paths around his grace.

Thoughts of him bedevil me, they will not stop.
The beauty of his face and spirit line me like a skin.
I have drunk intoxicatingly from his cup
where perfection bathes his touch, his grin.
My joy is forever now, in him.