Sometime in my dream's future I kneel before you.
Your complexion betrays the crimson of your thoughts -
your growing excitement.

Your finger moves the hem of your dress and you indicate
the point where I must begin the slow climb - from the lowlands
of obedience to the summit of your bliss.

Inch by delicious inch, I have learnt the subtle rhythms
of your pleasure - how to tantalise, to pluck the string
and find its singing harmonic.

Now quickly, now slowly
I have learnt how to travel along the highway to your sacred
house -
and then to stop an inch from the door that soon will open
up the cascade of your heavenly release

You are almost there - almost
but if I stop, for just a moment,
then, when I return, the floodwaters
will crave more urgently their release
and so I wait, for just a breath.
Then, when I finally return, and knock once more upon the
door, you open up -
and spill the cream of pleasure with a scream.