She is love.
Hibiscus on her pulsepoints, subtle island scented pheromones fill the air when she passes by, the wind she moves us all.
She has Orris root in her curly hair and walks with a seductive stride that swings from both hips.
Honey drips from her lips so every sound she makes is sweet: Her breath, sweet like vanilla beans.
Jasmine for her breasts and her heart.
Between her thighs is a secret garden of roses that very few know about.
Honeysuckle wraps down her legs to the soles of her feet.
She sleeps amongst the lavender and dreams of her lover. In her dreams she calls to him.
Come to me.
Come to Me, Love.
Erica Taylor
