By Gala
Date: 2 October 2000
Flannel Shirt
Butter soft,
wearing thin in places,
but if I place my hand
in the center of your chest
the soft nap teases my palm
with the steady beat
of your constant heart.
I bury my face in your chest,
rub one cheek against the old plaid
and smell soap,
and ever so lightly, a man.
I arch like a kitten,
and lean foward
laying my nose against yours
ever so lightly.
Slowly back and forth
eskimo kisses
like Nanook never dreamed
watching your eyes
catch the spark
and leaning in
to capture one pouty lip
with mine.
You groan, and reach for me
catch that wild plume of hair
wrap it firmly around your hand
and hold me fast---
so you can kiss me
to breathless silence
until I understand
that you are damned serious
on the issue of loving me.
You hold me tight against your shirt,
and I am grateful for the strong hands
to catch me when my knees turn traitor
and all I can think of
is long drugging kisses
and the beat of your heart
beneath worn flannel
this chilly night.
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