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2002-11-13 19:32:43 (UTC)


A walking, talking
soul feeding she who
holds a fine hand open
to my girls.

Slim waist, long legs she
reaches me.
A hip bone felt,
hand vein exposed,
all while kissing me.

Glee and caution wrestle
abandon on the couch while
siren voices murmur a silver
story of how thin-lipped this
life is, but shouldn't be.

All the while a sweet
electric hand hides
time while rightly moving
and within reach.

I see dreamed days of golden cities
looped with black glassed roads,
wide with bedrock promises
still smoking and full
from past hoped visions.

copyright 2002 - RSD

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