When your hands search for me,
it's not just skin they touch,
it's my soul that trembles,
my reason that runs wild.
Your caresses... oh, your caresses, love,
are whispers of the moon in the shadows,
drawing in my being old delights,
as the wind caresses the waves.
Your fingers, soft, decipher
secrets that time has hidden,
and in their dance, my heart vibrates,
marking the rhythm of this poetry.
In the touch of your skin I lose myself,
each embrace, an eternal return;
is the magic of a sincere love
that blooms in the depths of the day.
When your hands search for me
the world stops to watch,
and in the silence that surrounds us,
the stars begin to speak.
They are not just fingers exploring,
but a journey to the deepest depths,
where our dreams are dancing
and intertwine in this world.
