Stampede

Runaway horses, my fingers are

Cruising around your body as plains

They brought mine thoughts,

my senses

Dancing hands, parading fingers

 

Dance to your spirted rithm

Dance my hands and fingers

Better yet gallop through out

your body

Your naked flesh as tuned as

fresh essence

 

And the cavalcade stops not

Restless keeps and entertains

The rest of the spirited herd

Of your runaway orgasms, that is

 

©Carlos di Paulo Zozaya

 

 

 

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