The touch of your hand is a soothing caress
that stills my restless soul
your fingers glide to my thighs from your dress
the sensation of man made whole
Your touch up and down from shoulder to hip
is the dust of a twinkling star
the almost imperceptible tip
of a fairy here from Samovar
Sometimes it’s hard when we have fought
tough to submit to your touch
hard to be soft and soothed and taught
to let you love so much
But then your hand strokes on and down
your fingers begin to dance
the spell descends with ecstacy
intense, exploding trance
Many the day when my walls are up
many the time when I’m withdrawn
many the night when your touch brings the cup
of joy when it’s almost dawn
Riding Mountain, 1995