|
It's the silken, the sound |
|
And the cold creasing down |
|
Of a lone blade of grass |
|
Tracing and cooling down |
|
A bare leg |
|
It's the soles of your feet |
|
Finding touches to breath |
|
On the bare naked ground |
|
Each step a puddle |
|
So soft a sound |
|
Like sandals in hand |
|
Climbing a waterfall |
|
Oh, how delicious |
|
Oh how I want this now |
|
It's the slip into sleep |
|
With the memories you hold |
|
Burrowed and deep |
|
Turned like pages |
|
The break and release |
|
It's the first gust of drops |
|
When it's ripening to rain |
|
And the flavor is warm |
|
Scented like leather |
|
Dusty and brown |
|
Like hot desert wind |
|
Teasing along your skin |
|
Oh, how delicious |
|
Oh, how I want this now |
|
It's the narrowing instant |
|
When I look across at you |
|
And I wish I could be |
|
Emotion naked, simple and sure |
|
It's the murmur of growth |
|
Whenever I'm with you |
|
And I don't want to hide |
|
In simple elastic |
|
Protecting skin |
|
If only I could |
|
Stand so before you |
|
Oh, how delicious |
|
Oh, how I want this now |
|
Oh, how I want you |
|
Now...Now...Now |
