Sunday, March 16, 2014


Sometimes my eyes will brush across your face
To steal a glance before they run away,
Pursued by looks that time cannot erase
Which catch me empty handed to this day.

Sometimes my mind will wander down your back
Like faithful pilgrim trekking lonely dunes,
Forever reaching for this warmth I lack
Beneath the fullness of these ancient moons.

Sometimes my thoughts will drift between your legs
Like anchor plumbing coral ocean floor
And though the heavy handed sailor begs;
The sand and sea still leave him wanting more.

Under the surface an attraction hides,
That pulls me back as surely as the tides.

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