*By GILDA LILY*
He fills me
With his seed,
As bountiful
As the harvest.
The Goddess is good.
She has blessed me
With health and wealth,
Given me strength
To please this lover,
This Son of Italy.
So sensuous,
With eyes of green,
As deep as the forest.
A mouth that lures me
To its pleasures.
Long, slender fingers
Driving me mad...
His body, so graceful,
Long limbs twining
As his manhood rams home.
He is warm,
Like the earth,
And rich-smelling.
His body
Is my food
As I eat
Up every morsel.
I drink of his bounty.
And now, I lie here,
Stomach hugging
The Mother's bosom,
Looking up
At pristine blue
From my bed
Of crackling scarlet
And gleaming gold.
Maple leaves...
Of course!
He is in me now,
Strong hands bruising
As I gasp his name.
He is like the harvest,
Fruitful and wild,
Brightly-colored and
Tasting divine.
I spill out my seed
As he fills me
With his own,
Planting his love
Deep within me.
He kisses me tenderly.
(*GILDA LILY*)
(*8/27/97*)
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