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.
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