She tells me of Her Love,
and I feel it,
no need for language
as it slides into every pore;
I wonder as I wait,
could there possibly be
anything more
grand than this,
the festooned crown
on the head of such royal bliss?
ah, yes, the warmth,
the depth of my surrender
as I feel Her Kiss;
it opens me wider
than I can ever remember,
reminds me of that which
I still miss;
though I never pray anymore,
I find myself preying
on the delightful deliciousness
of the moment ahead,
what's in store
as I lay panting at Her Door,
no longer dead, but
alive forevermore.
January 5, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
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