As If It Is A Jigsaw Poem by Gert Strydom

While your cigarette spirals into the air
you breasts against me
talk in an own language
making impressions with their form and fashion
awaking feelings and they feel fragile,
though firm and soft
and I wish that this hour, this dark night
could last forever,
that past daybreak
I can still embrace you like this

and you slim body surrounds me
catches me
as if I it is a puzzle,
wherein I fit precisely, perfectly
as if moments are destined
to be absolutely unique
and breathtaking.