Deep touch,
pelvic massage,
Throat hushed
until she turned him on..
Kissing the collar
of her silk baby doll
body
While they slid
into bubbles
Soaking themselves
Subconsciously weaving
Speaking in languages
They didn’t know they spoke
while they splash with their waves
Triggering buttons
of memories aglow
They touch and
hold with care
these butterfly wings
That tickle with
kisses of joy that they
bring.
The fuel for the consciousness
The wisdom may proceed
from free spirit polished
toes
To thought lines forming
On both their brows
discussing matters in hand
two souls
learning they can.
© 2009 Sonya Littlejohn
