Sometimes
In the almost dark
I reach out.
Her hip.
My fingers trace gentle circles atop the crest
Before falling away
To fuzz and more.
I dare not go there.
Not yet.
Eager fingers slide slowly to her waist.
She shifts position but sleeps on.
I linger, back and forth
Hip to breast.
Dare I cup it?
Touch the nipple?
I do.
She stirs but sleeps on.
How is it she is here with me?
Her impatient, but grateful lover.
I do not know. I do not ask.
I lift my hand from beneath the breast.
Fingers butterfly touch the hip
Then slowly, ever so slowly
Slip down
Into fuzz
And beyond.
She awakens and turns to me.
In the almost dark,
A shy smile.
Sometimes
I dream
And hold her memory
Tightly hidden within my heart.
Copyright © Peter Burrows | Year Posted 2021
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