Fingertips
That brush my lips
That graze across
My closed eyelids
And tingle-dance
down my spine
In tactile touch
So damned divine
Fingertips
That brush my lips
Caress also
My mind
Like feathers touch
Breath held…too much!
So fiercely soft…like fingertips
dipped gently in white wine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem