A Tapestry of autumn leaves whispered in my ear, Your soft-scented breasts are captive in my steel. This tapestry of leaves I hear sing tunes that make me kneel. Some leaves are early morning blooms in early autumn fear.
Your mountain moves to metered rhythmic drums my hips invite your tree to the cadence of it’s plunge. Inch by inch my lips press down to fill your longing hint. And so my precious the vine I taste is early autumn mint.