Soft Curves and Words
…………………………………………………………………

I woke in the shelter,
Of borrowed boathouse
I stole for the night…
Keeping me dry and warm,
Fostered from rain falling.

The sounds of nature’s tears,
Tapping on tin roof…
Play symphonic chorus,
With words I pulled…
From your heart,
Now playing in my mind,
Like an old record album…
Skipping.

Young beauties on the opposite bank…
Half naked…unaware of my presence,
Playfully bath and swim,
Obviously proud of their girlish,
Tight bodies.

I chuckle to myself…
Laugh at myself too…
And memories of the days,
When I was too naïve,
To know such beauty…
Was only good for looking.

Pleasure from touching…
Tasting and making love,
Melting together in spirit…
Comes with age,
And curves of softness…
And gravity’s affect on breasts.

Combine all this…
With words I pull
From your heart…
Is it no wonder why,
I find myself…

Craving your passion again ?

Erin Woods