Hour Three

A touch

A tease

Anticipation brings me to my knees

Just the thought of

Your breath on

my neck

Enough to make me weak


The melody begins

We bring in the beat

Drumming together

We pick up the pace

Losing breath and time

The rhythm entwined

With the symphony of

Strings and horns

Running us ragged until

The crash

A crescendo

The peak

And then it recedes

The only drumming left

The feathering beat

Of my heart

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