Her fingertips speak
My tired shoulders listen and obey
A Sunday Afternoon type calm
possesses my worn out body
Eyelids descend.

Her fingertips dance
across my shoulders and back
A relaxing rhythm
Painting unique prints of affection onto my tired Canvas of flesh

Her fingertips fade into the distance
I start Sinking deeper,
to the place where sleep dwells
I want to go there
I want to go there.

©Richard Quaz Roodt(2012)

PoetsUnited Thursday Think Tank #79

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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Comments
  1. I so love this peaceful sinking down into sleep……….makes me sleepy just reading it.

  2. Ella says:

    So calm and zen like~ Well Done, I loved it~

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