Poetry in Motion


My pen glides across the paper

As a silky caress my fingers

Whisper tiny songs to your skin.

Ink flows warmly from my pen as

I flow into and onto you

Your hair cascading around us

Gently trapping the heat of our thoughts

Our bodies lost to the rhythm

Of rocking and riding the wave

Poetry in motion,

The hot, heady, sweaty smell

Hangs pungent  

In the air, in my hair,  

In the sheets as we sleep,  

Silent and sated,

Spooning in threes as the trees

Shake gently their branches in dances  

As they whisper in wonder

At the wind.

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