Tv Is Bad For the Eyes
Provocative the way she leans against the door,
Towel around her dripping wet beckoning me.
Her lips pouting whispering to me begging for more,
In her arms kissing her, that where I wish to be.
Invisible hands loosen the towel as it drops,
To make a platform that worships her form.
Water runs down her breast to her belly and stops,
My eyes make love to every inch which makes me feel warm.
She combs her fingers through her hair,
Suggestively, enticing my pupils blur what is see.
I move closer to her over there,
But I find I’m too close to the TV.
© 2000
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