The Flow of Water
Drip, Drip... She quietly speaks to me,
With a silent whisper her words sent tremors down my spine,
As my tears fall down into her waterfall, her bussom awakens within me,
In ecstasy we immediately intice each other with no sexual recollection,
Is the thunder an angry cry of a womens' innocence?
Or the roar of our mother, reminding Man of our destructive nature?
An ocean stirs within my blood,
A woman that I am,
A creature of nature born of our mothers' cosmic love and atomical explosion we continue to be,
Much like water where do we start and where does our tears end?
Giving unconditionally, she answers back....never....that is the blessed gift of a female.