Touching You

I love touching you, your soft
Ivory skin, warm and smooth.
My fingertips glide over
Your faultless female form.

I love your curves, your gentle
Contours guiding my hands.
No master sculptor can ever
Recreate such unparalleled splendor.

You are the living epitome
Of womanhood and beauty.
Touching you, I touch my desires
And embrace my very life.

I never tire of touching you,
Of holding you close,
Of my arms around you,
Of my hands upon you.

Perfect Music

How perfect, the sound
Of the wind through the
Windchimes outside my
Window on the front porch.

Melody and harmony as
Man is unable to ever produce.
Music created by the
Perfect touch of the breeze.

Perfect music by the
Perfect hand of God
As only He can create
And I can enjoy.

So few perfect sounds in
Our seemingly imperfect world.
These gently flow in
Through my bedroom window.