It’s your

It’s your

It’s your favourite song.
You recall word for word.
When the very first line plays
The rest you have heard.

It’s your favourite food
You recall with anticipation.
The touch of the taste.
Then the aftertaste changes.

It’s your favourite hug
The best place to be.
The warmth of each other.
In you and in me.

It’s the touch of your cheek.
When you rest down your head
So soft and so sleepy
As you lay down for bed.

All these combined
Hit me deep inside
When your silk tender hand
Slips within mine.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2013


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