This poem was written while caught in the rain, realizing just how important a part "wet" has been in my life.
|by Kate J.|
Languidly parting the moist curtain.
he slides into the smooth vessel.
the color of fire pink velvet.
his large hands securely wielding the creamy white handles,
firmly manipulating them until
just a trickle of foamy liquid flows forth.
She faces him, their eyes, reflecting pools of love,
lock on each other. embracing, both, with body and soul,
they melt together in the steamy atmosphere.
memories flood as her neck arches and wet kisses cover her throat.
teasing one another in the aquamarine Caribbean ocean.
causing rough ripples to fan out across the water of a swimming pool
discovering new things as a soft summer rain, like the sound of a
xylophone, soaked them.
Aromas of citrus, colognes and faintly, the sea
drift and swirl around them.
skin drenched, rivulets of salty sweat stream between them.
sauna heat builds as temperatures rise.
flesh moves with synchronized, frantic fluidity.
a torrential river violently rushes into a cascading waterfall.
drowning in a frenzied whirlpool, gasping for air, silent screams.
then the peace of a tranquil, crystal clear lake prevails
and the relaxation of a hot spraying shower returns,
as she lovingly shampoos his hair