It's a wonder to behold her,
standing naked 'cross the room.
Paint runs down her shoulder,
my brush the pigment's broom.
Skin white as the January sky,
and almost twice as warm.
Our lips embrace, subtle high,
and the desire to perform.
Indifference and despondence,
forked roads they do create.
Reluctance and intolerance,
she now has a new mate.
Another 'K' has passed her way,
awaiting the next, pleasant day.

(February 10,2010)