Friday, August 2, 2013

Center of Trees



He watches me while I remove
what little makeup I wear; I
slide out of tummy support panties
and unhook my bra.
I smile-
I like the way
my breasts relax, rounded out
against the sides like dough,
inviting hands to knead.

I drape myself in pale splashes
of daisies. I am godess.
His growing urgency tells me
I'm pretty. I smile slightly
with lips he's kissed almost forever.

I walk to him, a ritual sashay
across the room. He's transfixed.
The flowers dance and he watches
petals sway against my sugar-baby skin.
His eyes wander to my firm, full thighs.
He wants to touch; my gaze
says not yet.

I pull off my beaded hair band
and a sultry free fall of raisin
and henna locks splay across
my broad shoulders.

He pulls me close and holds me tight.
I feel wise and blessed not ancient.
He loves me more each new gray,
each new line. Years like rings-
bind, never ending.

4 comments:

  1. This is simply beautiful, LaTonya. I especially love the image of sugar-baby skin and raisin and henna hair, which reach to senses beyond sight and touch, so sensual and contributes to the entire experience you describe.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Kerry, in my family we die young, so ageing is something I embrace. And I appreciate tales of love and romance after our 20-something years.

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  2. I agree with Kerry, this is marvelous.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. Honestly, I just like to hear about folks are our age who are sexual, involved and okay with their bodies.

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