Io On Cloud Nine

Io It is nyx, cries owl loud, A dark little cloud Descends to her From the skies Io extends her hands To touch and feel it, She feels it had a face With a smile laced That reaches out to hers, for a kiss Sensuous, It's arms flow Over her ups and downs Holds her in a warm embrace And she wants more. On her soft berries Encapsulated In his molten lips Dance the fairies Of Great Cupid. Her burning liquid fire Wets him like a morning shower, Ignites his passions That enter her depths Like red hot embers, Does it singe her Or does it soothe her? A lightning from him White hot Strikes her senseless And she enjoys When his fury Starts to flow into her. Her fire ignites him like sun's flames, Licking at his passion, A Solar eruption Smothered.