I love to watch the steam curl around the room

as I envision myself as a drop of hot water rolling

down your cheek, across your breasts, gentle across

your hips and falling off your fine ass.

The essence of strawberry fills the boiling steam

as I know you are washing your hair.

I know next will be one leg up on the ledge as you

wash vanilla and jasmine starting with a toe and working

your way up over each inch of your body.

It is aspiring to know each of your movements, each

thought, each dream and all the repetitions that is

associated with them.

I never let one of those moments go by without tagging it

with some sort of importance.

For your life and all that encompasses it, is truly what is

important as we work hourly dwelled in the love we share

for one another.

The water slackens as the steam subsides and your body

glows hot from the water.

Heavy, wet curls cover you as you check to see if I am

awake.

Oh, I see you baby even if my eyes are closed while you

place your locks up in a towel and begin the drying ritual of

your body.

Bending over touching each spot of dampness, I catch a

glimpse as your hands move across your body and my mind

wishes I was always the towel.

A seemingly endless procession of thoughts fills my mind as
your seductive style keeps me mesmerized at just how

beautiful you truly are.

In front of the mirror you stand tossing one hip then the

next, looking for those misconceived imperfections that are

just not there. 

You know I am peeking as a sheepish grin reflects off your

face in the glass.

There you go, I hear my mind saying, grabbing just the right

pair.

Dark, fit denim snug to the waist, tight to the ass.

No panties today I hear myself saying, as a grin crosses my

supposedly sleeping face.

You saw that, I know you did, as your hips push this way and
that, wriggling flesh into tight spaces.

If only some music were playing, then the ritual would be

complete. 

I hear your words coming, the same each time as I chuckle

quietly to myself.

“Honey do these jeans make me look fat?”

I am never taken aback by the hundreds of time you have

said that, but each time I tell you the same.

No, baby, they are just right, they fit your perfect.

From the steam to the jeans and all the hundreds of

movements in between, I will forever be blessed to watch

this tight jeans ritual played out over and over just for me.

In tight jeans or nothing at all, you look lovely wearing it all.

Rb ©2008