The Affair

Closing the silk curtains quietly She lays down in the curve of his back Oh, the sinful joy of stolen hours The soft warmth of human flesh Clean and sweet as billowing sheets In a summer wind As sleek as a forest beast, his back an Unblemished canvas on which to write her thoughts or trace her fingernails In a beautiful dance like skaters on A frozen pond In the rthymn of sleep she watches His shoulder rise and fall oblivious to Her presence and thoughts of his Woman waiting patiently behind homemade Curtains which dance in the evenig breeze Pulling the sheet up to her chin she covers both Of them and closes her eyes.