In the quiet chill of a winter morn, my thoughts drift lazily to the heat of your body next to mine.
My arms enveloping you with gentle security. You, nestled in, breathing with the comfort that comes from true intimacy.
A bitter wind howling, an icy tempest roaring…and we, warmed by the hearth of heart and touch.
Our touch becomes the tinder for an immutable fire.
Our bodies intertwined, reveling in the sordid sanctuary of desire’s flame.
Our skin, slick with the sweat of passion’s fever.
The sheer pleasure we illicit from each other, a conflagration that burns so blindingly bright, as to melt the glaciers and ice caps alike.
As the storm rages, we ignite.
That is where my thoughts are drifting to…
…on this cold, winter morn.