Never felt anything as soft
A wrong move could cause discomfort
The right move could find a dove aloft
A silent shout in a nightshirt

Did you call me did you call me?
Did you massage my favourite skin?
Were you there in quite despair?
Did you squeeze my freckles thin?

Rested limbs in fake release
Moving slowly back to position
Fine hairs on a powdered surface
A darting hand from the only decision

Blowing warm a gust of air
Rippled with a smile fit for a hyena
Chewing fat with a lovers flare
Lying low with a poets’ demeanour