In Defense of Spice
Published Mon May 20, 2019 | Posted in Poetry | By Linda Jenkinson |
I smell the cinnamon on your skin
The freshness of rain in your hair
The vanilla candles in moonlight
Cast a twilight glow to the air,
Sensuous touch of satin
The warmth of you pressed to me
Outside and in
We soar and glide
We slip and slide hanging tight
To this night of old love reborn
Holding fast to each other
'Til sun sparks the morn.
Apart now we look and finally see
Was meant to be.