Lovely Little Fingers Poem by Robert Foxweed
Lovely Little Fingers
I tell her to roll over,
face me, offer something
even more beautiful to look at,
but she reaches back, walks
fingers up my thigh,
awkward bent steps, fingertips
at first forceful, but quickly
lifting, the touch fading
from the strain on her wrist,
and she quiets me,
says goodnight,
and I'm left alone
for a while.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
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4/30/2024 9:59:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
