2011-3
Take me to our bed and touch me.Not tentatively, or hesitantly,
but with abandon, the way
the late fall rains swell
the dry creek ditch and
the north-east field tosses
up waves of wildflowers each spring
and our youngest child laughs when
you toss him higher and higher.
Tumble me into sheets and pillows
and touch me. Not with your hands, but
with your mouth and lips and tongue
until I am wild and young again,
until I am a poet and a dreamer again,
until your touch turns me
into the girl I once was in your arms,
that muggy summer so many years ago,
when love stretched our future before us,
boundless and free.
Poetry by Minhocao
Read 511 times
Written on 2011-06-29 at 03:18
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