Saturday, March 31, 2012

Close enough

These fluffy
golden pancakes
with melting butter
and warm syrup oozing
into the center taste just like
(I’m guessing)

About last night

Warm fingers slide across my forehead
Loving a strand of hair out of my face
Gentle palm cups my tender cheek
Possessing my jawbone
For almost free
Soft lips press against my neck and slide
Urgently along my throat
As if the meaning of life can be found there
As if I’m made of water
Wandering hand travels down my back
Intrepidly journeying to parts unknown
Oh, snooze bar.

Sweet & Low

I think
It is supremely unfair
To bake a cake
And bring it to
Somebody’s birthday
Unless you also mean
To love them