The Fertile Crescent
Oh, my dear, how I crave to see you unclothed; how happy and joyful I'd be, if only your mound of Venus would invite me to stroke and touch and feel your tender furry grove. Oh, how I wish you'd open up to me, so my eyes could feast upon your beautiful pink palace, that mysterious inner world of the sunrise fantasyland. Oh, if only your chamber doors would open wide and would only ask me, how I'd gently explore the contours of your fertile valley, how gently I would massage your rich, loamy fields. Oh, if only I could savor its sweet fragrance and drink from the fountain of flowing milk and honey - oh, yes, how joyful I would be.
Oh, hearth of warmth, dwelling place of passion, if only you'd beg me to enter your holy of holies, I could dance with you in the land of magical midnight awakenings; the monthly cycles of the moonlight sonata would release us from the bonds of space and time. Oh, yes, truly, you are astronomy's black hole, the passageway to enriched worlds of creative imagery, the springboard of life and the doorway for the transmigration of souls.
Copyright 2013 by Bruce McClure