For S

``And when I make love to you

My each fluid movement is a word

That drips at first, and then

Rushes like a maddened river in a gorge

Before it dives into the dark``

There`s indeed a fine line between this poem and pornography!

Beware the scourage of penning poems of love. It discomforts the soul, stirs anxious moments of yearnings and leaves only a bitter-sweet regret as the wine of romance ages and turns sour! The first blush of love is always strong, but it will fade and there will only be a simple ache to remind what once was so glorious short lived!

A word to the wise, never ascribe your emotions and put them on a pedestal, because when they will fall, you will never be able to put them back together!