Hurried disrobing in spring, fingers flying she protests gently, we shouldn't do this he overrides her with kisses soft touches and sweet words smothering over the moment when rising above her she cries silently no, oh no. Afterwards, her curving body a reassurance to him that all is well she is content; a silent lie. ***** M.A. Mohanraj February 16, 1993Click here to read more poems.