As gentle as a breeze touching my neck, as tantalizing as a careless whisper, heart rendering memoirs and gentleness. Hands firm when they hold me; I love the roughness in them, hands of a working man. I am transfixed. A sea of emotion, depth and mystery. An enchanting tale. The story of my lover.
Your eyes tell a million stories and the gentleness when I drink from your well bids me goodnight in fairyland. The strength of that roar in your voice is that of a warrior only compared to Shaka the Zulu, running in the valleys in his splendor, covered only in loin skin of a lion. A great warrior.
A day in your presence is being in the presence of a high order. When I behold your image, and masculinity at the close of my eyes, the visions awaken thought of my youth and I swim in them for ages.
Your caress is lighter than a feather; your laughter exudes sexuality beyond words. That smile on my face is thoughts of my lover.
