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Susan K. Rowse

Peter's Friend

Soft was the approach of whispers
Chilling the sheets
Warming again to the humidity
Cloaked in the dew of prisimed sweets

Reflections of raspberry drizzles
Juices attending tongues
Taste buds of solvent blushes
Kisses in Technicolor...she comes

You there in your chair
Large hands grasping the corduroy
Digits resting upon your chin
Thinking...boy oh boy!

A blonde lady...
Upon the inside lids
Her flavor Woman-woman...
She dreams as she lives

Inside the man the question lies
Give to she and breath the smile
Whisper eyes shut before it dies
Be ready to walk this last mile

She the one who questions him
Tawdry thoughts...bawdy whims
Hands that tingle...make a fist
Lips all puckered for the kiss

Learned scholar with rolled up sleeves
Answers...posers...words that weave
He the strong one...learned tower
Usurp her challenge...feel the power.