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 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.