the drift home

where am I to go

with melted map

and cloudy telescope?

no sight of land 

or placement of stars 

to guide this fool’s ship.

in some ways 

the drift lulls and rolls.

when the wind blows 

water on deck 

it shakes the sleep,

opens the eyes,

and reminds me 

I’m not there yet. 

I have not fear.

One thing I know 

when I see my harbor 

I will be home.

soft touch

for the soft 

touch of her 

slight curve 

turning her hip 

toward him 

hands under 

her arched back 

he deliberately pulls 

her desire close 

to his face 

inch by inch

as her thighs 

shake in wait 

for the soft 

touch of him