French Kiss
Our breath mingles like crystal fog
in the Paris winter air
moving into one another.
Soft, sensual lips gently brushing,
parting ~ slightly pausing to nibble,
slowly your tongue curling its way in,
touching mine with a rolling caress.
“Je t’aime mon chéri”
Your kiss, a furnace
moist and hot,
warming down to my toes,
on a winter
Paris morning.
This poem was written/submitted by Jim Jordan.
(1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
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February 2nd, 2010 20:15
Very helpful! This is something i have been thinking about. Look forward to reading more next month.