Stanza of Three

She gives herself to me,
It is a mystery that,
She gives herself to me.

She gives her lips,
She opens her mouth with hunger,
And I take hers in mine equally.

But it is her mind,
She opens the most,
Her mind eroticism’s sublime.

She opens her long slender arms,
Full of sensual charms,
And takes me in naturally.

She spreads her legs,
She spreads them as wide as she can,
She has no inhibitions in front of her man.

In every degree she calls to me,
She calls me “mine,”
Minds and bodies intertwined.

We stand feet to feet,
With only eyes we meet,
It is enough we each see the other.

She is a woman so complete,
She has no fear of where,
Her bare-feet will lead me.

She is not afraid to please her man,
And I do the best I can,
To fill her exotic eroticism.

We are the best of friends,
We are the best of lovers,
She is light and life and I silhouette.

Just three lines to a stanza,
And mostly incomplete,
Just to make you think,
Of what could or should be.

She might be eighteen,
She could be thirty-three,
Or somewhere in-between...