The Wheel

The Wheel

The Wheel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our bodies touch, I feel your heat on my

chest and your scent arrest’s me in a state

of excitement, as my hands slowly move

around your waist and brush against your

hips ever so slowly, spinning me into the

captive wheel before us.

 

We are in sync as the clay spins ever so

slowly, and our hands create with every

slow turn, while the softness of the clay

on our fingertips moves up to the palms

of our hands, where we sweat with every

twist and turn and rub of each other’s

sensuality.

 

The creation before us is only offset by

our soft caress, as my chin rest’s on your

neck I feel the pulse of your life under it,

and am excited by every beat of your heart

on mine, as it pulsates against the heavenly

oily scent that radiates pearls of sweat

down the nape of your neck, teasing my

hot breath there and making it dance and

screaming for more.

 

Just as the most peaceful still water can

change its reflection, or the simplest hum

of a hummingbird can stir excitement,

we as young lovers together like this

can reflect t our soft skin on each other

and be bathed and colored by a simple

mold of clay in each other’s hands.

 

As we dance silently lifting, rubbing

and shaping our lives are entwined in

lust for our art as we are twisted in this

labyrinth of sensations as we continue

to rest our hand on that hard roundness

and shape it to our desire.

 

Let us slide down the thin passageway

of time, as we drift and dream in each

other’s arms, touching deep with our

fingertips as we explore what lies before

us on this wheel of time. Let us drink

our love for one another in this bliss of

molded clay, as the water thickens

before us and turns to wine to caress our

lips and quench our lustful desire for

each other this night in front of the wheel.

 

© Copyright by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved

 

 


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