A lock of hair fell across her

forehead

The warm, flickering light

of

the candle

outlined

the gentle shape of her

face

bringing forth

the sweetness of

her lips,

the small pink tip

of

her tongue

as it so

lightly brushed those lips in that

nervous

gesture which so sensuously

characterized

those soft, perfect lips.

Her hand reached across the

table,

ever so gently covering mine.

The warmth, the smoothness of

the skin

as it touched mine.

The sensation that traveled

through those

hands to mine

Brought reverberations into my

heart

that were an ecstasy of their

own

They penetrated my very self as

her gaze,

accompanying the touch

Pierced my inner soul with the

fire

of a burning brand.

The fever pitch brought about by

the

fervent desire to take her in my

arms,

To hold the beauteous figure

before me,

To feel the gentle touch of her

lips

brushing mine

To feel the warmth of her

closeness

melding her to me

The candlelight, the wine, the

aura of her

All blended itself into a dream

become reality

By her very presence, her

freshness,

her touch, her smell, her taste,

her very being.

She and the night became one,

a maelstrom

of feeling that gradually

became a most

gentle, warm and overwhelming

envelopment

of one's being.

cg

The Sagebrush Doc