Night had fallen,
and any sullen mood I might have fostered
had found its rest in the evening sands.
The warmth of the day lingered
as wanton fingers traced along the
titillated flesh of that beautiful and willing
(although scared and nervous) woman
who had held my fascination
and seized my heart. We began that
tactile meander with shaking hands
as they wandered and we explored one another.
Tender caresses that unharnessed
our sleeping libidos. In the heated throes
of passion, it was an uncharted course.
Navigating by the stars above,
love came home in the shiver
of a moonlit night. It felt so right,
just like the first time, every night.
And my hands still quiver from that sight,
the beginning of passion in the bright moonlight.
© Walter J. Wojtanik