Painted

Weaving towards his kitchen
Crumbing cookie to his mouth
His lover has just left him sated.
Standing in the sunny place
With all his soul inflated
He smells her on his robe.

He daubs himself content
Cooling his hands on his
Hot cup imagining her pudding rises-
Tonight he wont be naked no...
He will sleep soundly surrounded
By her tapestries in his smiles
Painted with those surprising analogies.

She's home now alone
With a very good bodkin
And a running uncross stitch
Knowing how he paints.






Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 407 times
Written on 2009-04-26 at 21:19

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