barefoot hardwood floor

Light from the moon
Just a reflection
rods and cones
The eye’s detection,
Seeing what is there
What we think might be
And there in the shadow
What we do not see,

I watch you through the crack
The slightly open door
Bare foot standing
On the hard-wood floor,
Eyes closed (dreaming?)
Fingers on your spot
Swaying to and fro
Lost, perhaps, in thought,

With a smile of completion
You shake head and hair
Bend to pick your underwear
And, as if, a dare,
You bend, and show me everything
Still damp with perspiration
I breath deep and touch myself
With thoughtful contemplation …