A vision

When I am working on something that doesn't require much thought, my mind drifts aimlessly. Like a butterfly flirting here and there.

Today I got a vision on a semi-hairy masculine tummy with a strand of my hair, semi curling and laying on the area just below the navel. A poetic image? Maybe. Let's see if I can turn it into one.

Writing Poetry

I write you into the shadows
of filtered blue moonlight,
dust motes dancing wildly.

But you do not live there,
in the shadows of night.
You are sun-bright and bold.

You shine and I blossom
under your steady warmth,
a rose with few thorns.

And though I write us poetic,
in verses that make angels weep
and demons stumble in darkness,

We both know that nothing
is more poetic than a dark strand
of my hair curling around your navel.

Now, my love, let me write
with my lips erotic poetry
across the tops of your thighs.

I'm sure that eventually
a poetic point will spring up
and we'll both swim in poetry.

~ ~ ~
Well I think I did it!!!