First Thoughts on Waking

It was of you, of course,
and how the pale light from a yawning sun lit
the down on your upper arms.
I reached over, felt your curls
and the curve of your neck,
ran my finger lightly down theroad map of your back
lingering and stretched at the rest stops of your chakra.
My thumb made gentle circles
massaging your back
that lovely triangle
where spine meets hip.
You purr and nudge closer
my nose now in your hair
my palm gently grazes the terrain
of you:
your shoulder
your waist
and that ineffible, beautiful rise of hips.



© 2002 Homer Christensen