In her quivering awareness
Tiny needles in the autumn winds
Which play upon her open skin
Raw with its need and tingling
With brushstrokes of falling leaves,
Flesh singing with each passing touch,
Aching at the melody caused
By her eager awareness.
Imagining her lover's touch,
So long desired and dreamed,
Laid bare in her vulnerability,
Each feather touch as intense
As ice or fire or crashing crescendo,
A symphony of needs and wants,
Played upon and within her body,
And her mind upon the inner trembling,
Just before her fall.
Donovan Baldwin