Caressing the rosy blush of her passion
With the dewy lips of a crimson rose
Mingling the fragrance of the bud with her scent
To create a coctail of intoxicating essence
As she slithers with unsatiated desire
Yearning not for the tender touch of a rose
But the bruising caress of masculine fingers
And the bittersweet taste of his heated kisses
And the dew of her sensuality beading
The soft alabaster skin of satin
Leaves new drops of dew on thew thirsty lips
Of the rose filled with the fragrance of love…