505

When curtains from two bosoms fall

I pant as we go about 
Quite flushed in your embrace....
My traces tremble..
as our limbs
Carve etches on our bed 
A mirror; peers out at us
Walls echo sounds of mirth..
Our chambers pound in tune with love
we passionately make.

Reviews

[zunie frost]

Hahahah funny name ..... I was really attracted by the title of this poem ..... great work my friend