Cd Driver Pinnacle Pctv (150e/55e) Vista

The Touch of Sappho


trees kept the sun in their branches. Veiled
as a woman, referring to the past,
The dusk comes crying ... and my fingers trembling in
follow the line of your hips.

My ingenious fingers linger
the thrill Of your flesh beneath the robe with sweet petal
... The art of touching, complex and curious equal
Dreams fragrance, the miracle of sound.

I'm slowly the contour of your hips,
Your shoulders, your neck, your breasts unappeased. My desire
refuses to delicate kisses
It touches and swoons of pleasure in white.

sappho