The Scent of Honeysuckle

I walk barefoot in your garden as to not wake you.
With tender hands I want to touch your face as you
sleep in your winter hibernation. My eyes spy the
blush of raw green as I burn inside to tease out the
cool waters of spring in you until you flourish. I want
to hear your voice break the silence with the thunder
of passion as you shelter me in your secrets. Take my
lips in yours and I will drift off into August moons with
the heat of summer radiating off my sun kissed skin.
Honey, my lips want to suck the sweet dew off your
neck and whisper in tender notes of how my heart
belongs to you...I am your flower, you are my garden.

PaintedPoemCpl PaintedPoemCpl
2 Responses Sep 1, 2014

You must love him much. Beautiful work

Poetess: Yes..this one is for Painter... he's my heart and soul.. I have a penchant for creative types...I think I once said to my mom I wanted to be a Muse when I grew up... lol

I don't know why, but this poem moved me in some deep way explain, in the same way as the sound of rain on the pavement both soothes and excites me. Idk. Two thumbs up.

thank you, luv... I know that feeling about the sound of rain... it's like the color green in the sky warning of a storm... do you take shelter or do you stand out in it naked to nature and beckon her to give you all she has...