Beckoning me



spill into

my darkened room,

rest a while

upon my brow,

tiptoe up the walls

and dance

with shadows

to the silent song

of my quickening heart.

I hear your whisper

in the deepest of night,

enticing me to

disencumber myself

from slumbers dominion

and steal away

to a secret place

of absolute solace and

faultless pleasure.

You beckon,

I heed your call.

Laid bare before me,

unblemished canvas

waiting, yearning, needing

to be painted

with my desire,

anxious to be claimed.

A blank page,

awaiting the touch

of my pen.

Crystal R. Cook

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