The soft rain of the morning paints a line
around the house in mud. I am awake
with dawn, she lazes in a lingerie
of light and cloud. I have observed the drops
of water on the leaves, her curving breasts
when she articulates words. On my fingers
are the colors of the sky, the brown trees
populate the horizon. The water collects
in pools and ponds, the birds are shuttering
in the branches. I can hear her quickly gasp
for breath when I put my hands on her and look
beyond her eyes. The thin, ethereal fog
dissolves as the Sun rises and I can taste
the pink and tan values of her bare thigh.
No comments:
Post a Comment