Satin spreads like a painter's brush-stroke
Across this plateau of stitched seams and predictable patterns,
Spills forth in in all directions, floods the senses with
Silk smooth slips and slides, the cushion curving as
You settle in beneath the sheets with gasps as crisp
As fresh apples and warmth as radiant as the air of a midsummer's night.
The tastes and textures fly by with no particular order,
The sensations roll over you in palpable waves, washing into
You with the persistence of the ocean slowly working to reclaim it's shore.
You are putty beneath the hands of the orchestrator, malleable metal
Beneath the arc-welder of an expert worker shaping statues to mirror
Gods and goddesses innumerable.