Morning

The breeze through the window
gently billows the voile
of the curtains
as you rise,
sleepy and warm,
on one elbow
to nuzzle my neck.
I whisper your name
and laugh because
the overnight growth
of new bristle on your chin
tickles the softness of me
where we touch.
I bury my head
in the hollow of your neck,
letting the feral
fierce smell of you
soak into
my hot seeking skin.
You kiss me again
like you did last night,
starting slow and wet,
with your tongue
at my ear,
leaving me atremble
again
like a sweet eager puppy
anticipating
that first joyous
caress
of the master’s hand.

— Elaine Pedersen ©

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