I love that I can lounge
on cappuccino mornings
and watch you
in the kitchen
strutting in your
stolen pink bathrobe
from cupboard to sink
crafting the perfect pull
with just a hint of hazelnut
smiling across hardwood floors
all the way back to our bed
where I needn’t do anything
but nest in the down
one leg flirting
with the edge of the sheet
still humming from where you
last kissed me
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2 comments:
Ditto!
F.P.
This poem made me smile, especially the "stolen pink bathrobe line." I know that pink bathrobe. I've seen that pink bathrobe, and I think you need to do it more justice -- it's not simply pink.
HC
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