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Like the cat who sleeps
on my bed, you lie curled
in the warmth my body left.
You linger in my hair, in my
perfume. The covers keep
your rare orchid in memory.
The bed breathes
when I'm not in it, waiting
like silver water for me.
I'll slip in again, to rouse
your purring belly with the
sun-stone of my hand.
Angie Recommends:
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Maria, lovely and fine work. Thank you.
Thank you for your feedback, Andrew! It means a lot to me.