Sinking my fingers into your soil.
Every ridge on the skin of my hands
has become surrounded
by the silky smooth
warmth of your being.
Tender and teasing with
a game we toss back and forth
at each other.
I ponder the feel of your nose
on the back of my neck.
Do you care to know what
my hips feel like when you grab them?
Do you watch my lips move when
conversation is afoot or
is it just me?
I glance and let
the gaze rest before you.
My eyes, feasting
upon what ever shade your skin is at the time.
The rasp in your voice
serenades me,
like a hummingbird's wings
fluttering
by in a jiffy,
and there's no way for me to capture
a moment in time with you
closer than this distance we've mounted up.
Our translucent walls allow us
to acknowledge
each other's presence, yet
never get close enough to commit
to a memory holding anything dear.
The nearness is never near enough
and the further we continue
this routine, the harder it is
to process that my fingers
only daydream about
gardening in fields.
I can ponder all I want
and become curiouser about
your texture
until my mind goes numb with guessing.
~Tina Meeks
