Love / Men / Poetry / Wants

Poem #10

He laid his head

in my lap

as I softly recited

my poetry.

His flowing locs brushed my thigh

Warm, cinnamon scented breath tickled my skin

My words impregnated the air

Like the scent  of dew drenched cherry blossoms

Hung in the air, playful

Inviting

full

and then…we became…

Poetry.

© 2011 EmittingLove

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s