lost in a curve of her hip
gathered muscle into delicate roundness
then released in stride to collect again
she is a rolling wave of an inward tide;
waist slim and subtle, contra-body sway.
A line from shoulder points
to full swell of thigh…and I am lost
in gentle imaginings; colors like summer sand,
softness; fine hairs that would catch sun.
In these moments I can notice least
what I treasure most, then in redux,
the smile that joins the eyes- soft brown
within the glow of gold, come words
that have no real meaning
except
they come from her, arrive at me…
make a bridge of moments
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