The Touch Of Your Rising Sunsetx3

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    The Touch Of Your Rising Sunsetx3

    The Way He Rocks the Hips
    Of the moving wave
    Waiting for him to touch my wet sand
    wanting his sea shell in me
    to create a baby crab
    slowly he go's biting the neck of mine
    feeling the pressure but pleasure of his hips
    loviing the way he just turns my rising sunset into
    the big sky where the moon shines bright until it hits 6.am.
    were would you be..??
    cheating on me
    or rocking your hips on somebody else?
    I've Never really understoof the Rising of his sunset
    Until he became wack.

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    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

    loversx3’s Poems (1)

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