By tender
Date: 9 February 2000

breath on glass

Snow falls softly---
             blanketing the early morning
             and gentling the fierce cold.
            I lean my face against the glass,
             think of you as my breath turns to fog,
             and yearn for a snowy morning spent
             in light pleasure
             beneath a thick down quilt.

              This is not a searing moment---
             no skin caught in wildfire lust---
             No this is the gentle loving
              that feeds the soul soft touches
              and soothes the spirit
              with slow hands,
              and small laughter
              as the toes curl, 
              and the warmth goes beneath the skin.