Furnace of Your Arms


Taper
In summer’s scorching grip
worlds can be set alight
I have known
the painful ecstasy
of smouldering flesh
burning in the cool embrace
of crisp white linen

But the sun’s fiery fingers
did not reach me
I sizzled at your touch
passion’s flame
igniting desire’s volcano
reducing us to ashes

The heat has tapered off
senses lie dormant
in the sweltering air
But I would willingly
combust again
though only in the furnace
of your arms

© 2017 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

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