You Are Coming Poem by James McLain

With one long fingered hand,
you keep track of his.
It is everything now.
It is night time now.
While using the other to rub.
Gently in circles that grow ever wider.
Short of breath he watches.
Wet, moist, humid, clinging.
The tunnel to love it has you.
The trunk of the tree out the window.
The trunk of the tree discovered.
Triggers more of this the same.
Soft silky fabrics give way to firm,
pulling and pushing it is spilling.
You are coming again tomorrow.