Sunday, November 8, 2009

legs lit bright with the soft peach fuzz of winter
the fall of blonde, the autumn of red.
the growing strands that tickle the air around when i walk
all small and simple things, feminine and shadowed
wisps of cigarette smoke, the dip of a waist
golden freckles splattered over porcelain.
you are the greatest creation

and i am the sun that marks your bedroom floor