The Garden Of Fallen Angels
In the dark forest of twisting vines and curling leaves lies a path with a mesmerizing intoxicant of elegant blossoms. Ethereal streams of moonlight spill through giant willows descending of ancient sadness, casting an angel's glow over sleepers entombed forever in stone. The winds of change are coming; but this time, it’s different.
She can feel it in the air and in her blood as she lightly traces a vein on her hand with her fingertips. She can feel so much from him though he is so far away. She wonders, as she traces the vein, if he can feel her too. Can he feel the fire that courses through her blood, the insatiable hunger that goes beyond mere physical need that rages in her heart like a trapped beast?
In the unbroken stillness of the night, there is a sudden movement and his face on hers, gently running his fingers through her long raven hair while icy beads of rain caresses her softly tan skin. His dark shadowy eyes, enveloped with erotic seductions, draw her to him, drowning her in fiery passions of unearthly love. The sanguine hand of her dark lover undoes her velvet dress as it gently falls to the ground like that of a bird's feather. Their shadows dance slow circles under the moon's veil, over wet petals, in the soft murmur of rainfall. He whispers to her as he gives to her his eternal love, " Be with me, loving me, for all eternity as we are meant to be."
To be continued...
© Akira Cheyenne Feathermoon
