Making Love

BY CAROLE NICHOLS


Butterfly kisses, tickling the skin;
The touch of your hand, feather light;
Can oft' move me more than passion's hot flood,
Making me laugh with sweet delight.

You fill me so deeply, touching my heart;
Kissing the very core of my soul,
And you work to ease this aching need,
Restore my faith and make me whole.

And as the tension builds inside,
A fine mist of sweat cools my skin.
While the inner embers grow to flame,
And I move to take you once again.

In the breathless, wonderous aftermath
Of love's gentle, but fiercy chase,
I can hear your heartbeat matching mine,
As you hold me there in your embrace.

And I wonder, dare I linger here with you
In this place where passion rules?
To see just what might come of it?
Am I your lover, or your fool?