I lay waiting for you under the tree. My hair down around my shoulders, my body propped on one elbow, two bows strategically placed around me. I wait for you, hoping you come to me soon, waiting to feel your touch to warm my skin on this cold morning.
I anticipate your touch. I wait to feel your hands sliding through my hair. I wait to feel your lips press against mine drawing the passion from me. I wait for your fingers to slip down and untie the bows, to feel your fingertips caress my skin. I wait for the moment in which we surrender to each other. In this moment the passion will break free, a hunger in need. I wait for the feeling of your body pressed against mine, your hands and lips devouring me. I want you to feel to heat between my thighs, the ache and desire that waits for you. I want you to feel how wet I am just thinking about you here with me.
I wait for you on this Christmas morning, come to me.