On The Tips Of My Fingers Poem by Gert Strydom

You are well-known to the tips of my fingers
and in the evenings when I lie right against you,
when the moon whispers secret things to the night
the being together becomes a great adventure
and then I am shaking.

When blood rushes through my veins,
your heart beat out love codes against my hand
then I notice the small things of you,
when your are at home in my arms
and against me all night long.

With the softness of your supple back,
the inter-twisting of leg over leg
we do lie together as one
and I feel the hot air

when your breath comes against my cheek,
when you are embracing me right through the night
and against me your skin is hot and soft
but somewhere at a time
we turn away from each other.

When words become bloodless
we do not even have to talk
when it’s raining outside in the dark street
as love has got its own meanings
and its own way of saying things

but when I do wake up
you are right against me
when it’s as if the whole day is only waiting
for the last magic of the night
and you smell like a spring garden full of new flowers

before the night disintegrates before the bright sun.