Her skin is of snow with every touch recording my imprint.

Like vaporous footprints melting in the sun, changing color as nature’s mood slows with time.

It is here that I realize beauty is a vision never lost but seldom found.

To move her is to move the waters around her surging.

To send as swirls within her waves of joy, I understand her need her lust for wet semen silky between her fingers drying as a lotion to her skin.

How can I not envy her in my love, knowing that she feels all?