Stroke By Stroke - Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
His hands unsure and clumsy at first
lighten around the curves;
his breathing once short and shallow
steadies in latest call and spark to life.
He gasps and sighs as he rounds the thighs
feels the supple skin beneath his touch;
revels in her blossoming passion
the invitation stirring in her breasts.
A memory perhaps or some ancient longing
becomes a moment to moment evolving delight;
each stroke and subtle shading unveils a beauty
through his expression brush to canvas.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You