The days lapse
with your head in my lap
I'm too blessed to be
so plagued by
wish you would
My book's weak on poems to show you
And though I'd prefer you wrapped around
to curled against me, like a kitten
I do like the way my fingers make you arch your spine and purr.
Sometimes I think I'd better fare
hips-tipped, ass to bare
and yet, I sought bear hugs before
They left my fingers cold.