From behind
—
There’s something about
Rising, falling curvatures
Undulating hair,
Exposed and obvious
There’s nothing hidden or casqued,
Simplicity streams
Beads of sleep glisten
Bounding behind swift-like breath:
Scent of the fresh rest.
I bury my face
There in the forest of those
Reposing tresses
Where my entrancing
Stokes the stove of warm skin
Thrilled by our stirring
There’s something about
Rising, falling curvatures
Undulating hair,
Exposed and obvious
There’s nothing hidden or casqued,
Simplicity streams
Beads of sleep glisten
Bounding behind swift-like breath:
Scent of the fresh rest.
I bury my face
There in the forest of those
Reposing tresses
Where my entrancing
Stokes the stove of warm skin
Thrilled by our stirring
©2011 j.a.o.a.
