Now Tenderness
Passion spent,
now just tenderness.
The light touch of your hand on my chest.
My hand,
draped over your hip touching
the soft flesh of your cheek.
Now only sleepy,
gentle love.
Passion spent,
I sense the heat of your body
and the soft touch of your flesh
and the sweet scent of your hair,
and the last whisper I whisper
and the last whisper I hear,
"Goodnight, my love,
goodnight."
©July 24, 2013 / Mark M. Lichterman
Your Canadian Pal,
Anna
What should follow every heat of passion.
Ron