- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Moving Center
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In the doorway,
Feeling the cold wind behind me
And the warm room in front of me.
The room where you made me whole
Again.
And again.
And still again.
The room where you stood wrapped in silk,
Covered in my kisses,
Brushed by my hands,
Loved my my heart.
That room. Oh, that room.
For ten seconds as that cold wind slapped my jacket,
I slipped back into the room,
Wrapped in a memory of my heart pounding,
Your body tucked against me,
Your legs draped over me,
Your head nestled on my shoulder,
Your breath even and warm on my skin.
And as I broke eye contact,
Heading for my plane, my home, my center,
I knew that this could not, would not be the last time I loved you.
For my center had moved a little east, a little south,
To a brown-eyed woman with the taste of smoke on her kisses,
A satin doll who stands so tall in my eyes.
My lover, my hand reaches for you still.
