Morning Angler

Hiding behind treed mountain ridges the sun spies down
on a misted mirror lake
billowed in mystery.

She invites me to glide on her shimmers,
quietly into her secrets,
behind her veil.
I desire her rapture.
My joy is
to let her white mist's secrets enter me;
and her oneness fill my serene aloneness.

Blind, trapped inside her whiteness,
her scents and Siren sounds seduce me to play.
My fingers taste her wetness
as I glide deeper into her mystery.
Revealed, she hides and teases me with slow rocking caresses.
I am at peace, at one, and about to test her faithfulness.

The line laid softly into the unknown echoes
an unseen

The voyeur sun, now blushing,
peers through treetops that roof lady mist's forest home,
and she goes.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem