Autumn Burn

Rainy day. Storms moving in. Spending the morning writing.


--
The woods burn softly, amber, gold,
leaves trembling with secrets untold.
Each breath tastes thick of smoke and pine,
and I ache for you, as I crave your body on mine.

The air wraps close, a velvet sin,
your phantom touch beneath my skin.
Branches arch with breathless need,
urging me down where shadows feed.

The hush of the forest hums, low, slow,
a rhythm my pulse dares not show.
Even the wind moans out your name,
and my pulse answers, wild, untamed.

Autumn would blush to feel us near,
the world dissolves as you pull me here,
heat in the dark, a hungry turn,
your touch the spark that makes me burn.

BB