She stares into a glass
of smoke and stars.
An ancient mirror lies
on waxed oak beams.
He says relax.
Breath touching skin,
a kiss on nape of neck.

She shivers willow
as the soft caress falls.
Leans back to the floor,
arches and lifts.
Eyes hazy close.
His hands work
molten lava warmth.

Riding spring waves,
she gives a sudden
collar dove hush.
Her tide turns inward
she feels a pebble push,
a lunar towline taut.

Hair spread like jellyfish
tentacles of pleasure,
tendrils of desire entwined.
They rise, bodies drawn,
wet skin shimmering,
to see the moon blush.