Saturday, February 6, 2010

the black shirt

out in the open

my eyes suspended

looking beyond drift woods

humans roam like cattle

my mind

intrigue restless

ready for battle

the air the aroma

like roses

a walking distance

my mistress poses

short and sweet

my black shirt comes off

these fingers massage

and tickle her tenderly soft

where one works

one day dreams

the world as we know it

not at all what it seems