.
In a swagger of swirl bones begin,
Bold artist looks back on kept time,
Fierce eyes fencing out from a pen,
So much soul reels unto scrim lines.

our hands
one each, fingers splayed,
long and warm,
pressed against my
chest,
mine pressed against your
breast,
taking in so softly with each
palm,
of our excitement, yet so
calm,
soothing, smoothing, tenderly
touches,
the other hands,
holding on so
tight
all for the time being oh so
right.

our hands.