Mirage111

Where she was she wandered unlike before;

where she was, tiny swirl of dancing desert sands,

she saw her face in the eye of the sky;

where she was a hand held hers

and so naked she was evermore.

Kiss me then, girl,

and sing me your waiting song –

I dream of your breath licking my neck

and tasting this salty rain

passing through us

on our way to the mountain.


Surely not a poet...but an experienced Master and Trainer with a variety of wickedly fun tastes and much room and time for her in my life.

(I'll gladly send a photo once I know you're real.)