Diane Doran
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The MIDI Player

Whisper to My Heart.

The June afternoon
drips in Summer heat.

Distant voices of children playing
catching snatches of foreign words,
of soft French accent.

Rainbow beach houses
line up along the sand,
teased by gentle breezes
that fill our room.

Light blue clouds of fine voile,
bright flashes of a faraway world outside.

You lie with me;
my skin pale against
white cotton.

The smell of you
mingles with sea salt,
children's games,
the occasional rapping of an unfastened shutter.

The heat of outside,
of inside,
Burns me with longing
to feel you once more.

You kiss my neck,
my mouth,
Yours on my breast,
caressing my nipple,
Your tongue on my belly.

Come eat me,
Taste me,
Bring forth the feeling,
like honey
flowing over me;
lick it from my body and
know that you have me
For now,
For today,
For this moment,
Without fear of what might happen.

I lie, submissive to you,
knees slightly raised,
back arched,
You above me,
looking into my face, my heart, my soul,
wanting only me.

I feel your power,
Your desire,
Your love.

And for today I am yours,
You are mine.

Our bodies intertwined,
and as you claim me,
So very deep inside of me
I feel the passion, the hope, the honey
rise within me,
within you.

The cool air whispers to my heart
that you love me,
that you want me
that you want to be here with me.

I watch your face
as you make love to me,
Powerful, gentle, loving in your eyes,
Slow, measured rhythm
urgent, uncontrolled, desperate

And in that moment
You give me everything of you
to keep forever inside of me.

A memory of a moment
of a June afternoon
on a beach in Deauville.

Whisper to My Heart © 2000 by Diane Doran
All rights reserved.