My Woman

In my life there is a woman;
I love her more than any human.

I love to kiss her pliant lips
To feel her searching fingertips.

Her soft and molded, tender breast
Where I lay my lips to rest.

I trace a path down to her mound
Where her secret door is found.

Then with finger, mouth, and tongue
I make her soul and body hum.

When she finds my valley warm and moist
She moves in with great rejoice.

When our fingers lay at rest
Against each other's turgid breast

When our lips meet and legs entwine
I know I'm hers and she is mine.