She clenches my hand in fervor,
My heart thuds in a lover’s hold.
She sings the gentle lines in a flaccid tone.
She propels her gentle palm on my body
She loves me until night is gone.
Wherever we touch love marks are left.
In the tepid of her hum
I hear ardour’s song.
Her tongue slides on mine, our souls are glued.
She whimpers deeply to my ear,
The emptiness in my soul by her stroke is filled.
I put my pieces together again,
Collecting my heart from the ruins she made,
For these are memories of the song long dead.
She made me fly and plucked my wings.
© Namaganda