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Click hereHer scent
Lingers on my fingers,
On my palms,
Recalling to memory
Her skin.
My face
Still holds its flush;
A surge
Of blood from each time
My heart skipped.
I recall her
Lying silent next to me
In casual repose;
And to careful memory
I commit her.
My body
Tries to reassume
Its posture,
To envelope her with
My arms.
Her movement,
Playful and unsure,
Yet inviting;
I am lost in the lucidity of
Her form.
to stir around three in the morning and worship their lover...is that EST or PST?
Another early morning poem, this from the man's point of view. We seem to be riding a wave of the romantics today, don't we?