If you came to me in the night

when the stars threw a thousand sparks into the air,

I’d lay you down in pale sheets,

crisp and cool,

my lips dancing over your slick, hot skin.

If you came to me on this torrid summer’s night,

sweet voices singing an ancient,

rhythmic melody you would hear

as the flames lick higher and higher up your body.

With each naked tendril of my tongue’s fire,

and the silver coolness of white sheets

streaked with your own white hot passions,

you could swirl in the winds of the tempest.

All this and more, if you came to me in the night.

nmhill © 17 december 2001

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