PAD 27

Unloosing the cascade

My lips, my lips,
they crave the rasp of stubble
just under the jawline,
yes, right there,
and the quickening
of your pulse
on my tongue,
skin like satin
and nubby tweed,
the slow, deep tremble
of hands and limbs
intertwined,
the feel of grass
bending and breaking
beneath me,
green sharp tingle
rising to my nose...
surrounded with
flowers and incense,
tree sap and spice.
standing,
reverential, inhaling
the stew from the
good cook's kitchen,
floating and blissful
as Chagall's goat,
seeing beyond and into
what all I crave.

Today's prompt was longing.