Quiet enough to hear the drop of a pin. To see the clouds, to hear the wind. A slight crescendo slowly letting it in. Tapping lightly through my brain. Body shivering as from a cold rain. A daily grind that’s become insane. Louder now the ache becomes. Pushing harder my blood starts to run. My passion, my desire, I always succumb. Drumming now like a full blown assault. The demand, the urgency I cannot halt. Knowing the surrender will be only my fault. Ahh, quiet now, can’t hear the drop of a pin. No clouds to see, can’t hear the wind. That erotic crescendo doing me in.
by, Milly C. Rachel