Its his black and white
patchwork quilt matching
his salt and pepper beard
Its his sixty three managing
my still yearning thirty six.
Its his tobacco scented tongue
pressing promises on my wet intimacy
Its his exploring pointer conducting
grand tours on my uneven geography
Its his voluptous substance fitting
my perfection, measuring both beyond doubt
Its his much kissed lips
calling out some unknown Chinese,
or was it Japanese, name
when his urgncy troubling mine
paradise in the dim lit corridor
before SHE returns from shopping vegetables
Its his sitting busy at the study
and asking about a cool drink
when she walks in,
looking like a cat that got the cream,
Thats it.
Prathibha Nandakumar
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/erotica-2/
