Sidling into the curved groove
of your body,
your embrace is firm but flexible.
You allow me freedom enough
to bend my words,
but parameters so they don’t break.
Pondering the next syllable
for the sheet
where potential moves are plentiful.
Diseased by the myriad paths
up ahead,
you soothe the lyric-malaise…
…and what flows is pristine,
clean like a white-tipped mountain
snowing down
what I mean…
Feeling Wonderful
After reading this poem, I soar. :D