There is a place
along your back
where breaths gently flow,
where nothing attacks;
where butterflies land
and their gentle wings flutter;
where moist kisses fall,
and tenderly make you shutter.

Where quiet, solitude, and bliss
all combine,
intertwine,
and are felt
with a kiss.

To gain that spot on your back,
though,
the rider, searching that destination
must go
slow.

For tenderness and passion
from such cold Siberian depths upwelling
are often hid, and only revealed
by the master’s gentle telling.

And the visions your eyes alone see,
cannot, of themselves, bring you to your knees.
But the sum of all your tender senses
will rip down those cold winter fences,

and let the warmth glow
and grow
exactly
where it should go.