My Harp

Ebony, mahogony,
lithe, curved, carved--
the essence of perfection.
Strings, wires, steel, seat;
how patiently you await me.

I sit before you, infront of you,
my arms and legs wrap around you
and hold your body close.
My fingers rest on you--
waiting, while you tremble.

Quivering, anxious, yearning
you strive towards that one need--
that reaching desire.
My fingers move, they dance
across you and you respond joyously.

Sweet notes pour forth, filling
the air with a melody of
heartbreaking sadness;
of bittersweet joy.

I stroke you, I caress
and my hands glide over your body.
Cascading notes shiver in
the sweet song, the melody
we make together.

My fingers dance over your strings,
my hands and arms glide
over your body, caressing
the perfect, lithe curves.

Through the air sings our song
the sweet melody
that is nothing more, nor less
than the pure music,
the sound of my soul.