she has all her weight
her twenty eight years of ass,
still heavy in her,
strong and fat in my hands
the horse rider
rode my
torso
i whirled her
once
then twice
carried and lowered her slowly
letting my
hands have the last dance
my arms bearing the load
till she landed
she was mine
but she’s not
gone
my fingers remember
the tension
the dance of light from
sweet eyes
lips, blurred pink
nations built on hope
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cross road
2 comments:
Your rhythm moves me. What I'm thinking just isn't coming out right, but anyway, I am moved. Namaste
Aw! I enjoyed this one immensley.
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