Sonnet Of Making Love Poem by Mittur Ramprasad

Running the fingers through the hair with grace
Feeling romantic in each others arms
Caressing the corporal in slow pace
Embracing to become one, feeling warm
Roving with tremulous hands tenderly
Stroking lovingly little by little
Touching devotedly and fervently
Kissing all over boiling the kettle
Heaving between knoll and vale back and forth
Reaching slowly summit of raising sun
Swaying between zones of heaven and earth
Moving sensuously before it’s done

Reaching the pinnacle of no return
As sweet honey flows and candle’s flames burn