Concubine

She is mines for just an hour But she makes it seem like more, She implies what time is ours Stays behind the bamboo doors.... While undressing me to shower, Tending to my every need, From the bed of Asian flowers, To the towels at my feet... Then massaging me in oil, That evaporates in steam, So her hands can softly coil, What commemorate's the scene... Not a word is ever spoken, Until one is spoken to, As she dries me off from soaking, From the moisture coming thru... As the hour takes each minute, Just to turn it into two, She devours me within it, Like a concubine should do... Terry WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com