The fire

No poem can immortalize
The spark of one hand
Gently moving its way,
Exploring the curvature of another,
Alien to itself-- 
The energy that pulses through,
From one to the other,
As, taboo if anyone knew--

Keep it quiet, lock it up
In your mind, for they
Will look at you unkind.
But, we understand,
You and I,
For it is the passion
We've been searching
For, far and neigh.
With a whisprer,
And barely a word,
Our bodies spoke,
Eyes communicating the want
And need
of something so near --
Without regrets,
He brought us together
And made us sing.
The skies seem clearer,
The night a delight,
The creative gates flowing,
Now that you are in sight.

Be my muse
And I'll be yours
Until the stars
Tell us we can go on
No more...

Your vision is mine
And I can see it,
Or dreams can be real soon,
I can just feel it.
Fantasies are merely thought
Until placed into action
And I would rather participate
In those that give this sort
Of satisfaction.

I'll be here to help
Fulfill each touch,
Wish and desire,
Until a stop must be
Put upon it,
And also the fire.