The flower offered of itself, And eloquently spoke
Of Gods, In languages of rainbows
Perfumes, And secret silence…
~Phillip Pulfrey, from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations~
Wildflowers bloom and perfume a sunny afternoon.
Picnic blanket spread over freshly mowed grass.
Lovers lie next to each other.
A ring of flowers adorns her hair.
He reaches for her, touches her cheek.
She rolls over, kisses his lips.
Passion awakens with each caress.
They make love by the garden he planted in her name.
He climaxes into her, and relaxes.
She drapes a purple bloom around his ear and chortles.
He kisses her breast, looks at her and grins.
There is a spirit in her eyes, the likes of which he’s never known.
He doesn’t ever want to stop touching her.
Without a word, she promises he never has to.