The Kiss
Bed covers rustle;
He rolls close,
His warmth arriving first
with the scent of soapy freshness on his beard.
He strokes my cheek.
Lips brush lips;
scarcely touching.
Receptive to his sweet, sleepy breath
my lips move to him.
The kiss arouses, our souls
surface, touch, smile,
Parting on the whisper,
Good night my love, good night.
Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment