torrid dreamscape she's revealed
her supple curves aglow
beneath diaphanous veneer
of natural wand'rings it is clear
her passion carried always near
she's with me where I go
leisurely stroll about the hills
perhaps along the valley's rills
or where the surf's crescendo thrills
I hear her whispers sing
and as the day slips into night
dreamscape on wings surely takes flight
her hills alive as I alight
the rhythm gently builds
until the whispers turn to moans
and arching toward that sweet unknown
where parted lips and guiding hands
release the thunderstorm
rains and thunder soon recede
the dreamscape fades but not the need
her scent and feel the colors bleed
as dawn replaces night
© 2016 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved
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