Breathing close
One eye open
He's there with me
Still, but alert
Butterfly kisses
Random fingers
Finding that which makes him stir
Turn over cher
Stretch and waken
Join me in a celebration
Of the sun
And singing birds
And morning breezes
All awash on sleep warmed flesh
When I think about poetry, this is the scene that always enters my head. GW62
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Je pensais que ce poeme etait en francais, c'est quand meme bien en anglais.