The Lighthouse Lover

The salty air of an open sea,
Is vast and magnificent,
The coming of dusk brings utmost glee,
For the woman awaiting the taste of her lover’s scent.

She goes alone, swift with a lover’s zeal,
She anticipates each moment, each wondrous feel,
Of his masterful hands,
Carefully exploring forbidden lands.

And the lighthouse stands with kind intent,
Her lover beckons at last, with love so salient.
And as they emerge winding stairs,
There haste is interrupted only by caressing stares.

And as a door is thrust open,
He descends on knees with effortless adept.
Bringing her thereafter, open,
He descends ardently in her swollen depth.

The movement lingering and divine with grace,
Is made urgent with ravenous kisses, and a rapturous pace.
And the crescendo is jubilantly intense.
The lovers fall unabashedly into its ecstatic eminence.

And as a door is thrust open,
It is the lover’s beholden.
A deathly struggle begins,
Her lover is vanquished, the light dims.

Killed now by a husband’s rage,
She will no longer the scent of her lover taste,
She descends the great height of the lighthouse with haste,
No longer subject to the scorn of a brutal hate.

And the lighthouse stands with kind intent,
Her lover beckons at last, with love so salient.