I am so fortunate,
blessed with a sense,
that has been labelled keen
by those who know,
I rest here, on your pillow
and await the day
that you will claim it back
from me.

You are with me,
a fragrance such
as emanates
from your cute apocrines
cannot be matched,
not in the laboratory
nor by the skin
of anyone alive.

I do concede
it may be just a matter of
nuance,
compatibility perhaps,
the sparks of synchronicity,
but then, there is your mouth
a dab of rouge
as if Monet himself
had borrowed from
the Master, Leonardo
and tiny lines
embedded in matté
refreshed but now
and then
from an interior spring,
your chin will rest
each night
against a pectoral,
so close
to the exquisite
softness of
a Twin,
which snuggles
with its harlequin
and muffles
gently, tones
and pauses
of the beating
of your heart.

Your limbs are twisted
so it seems,
your back is nestled
into me,
my hairy chest,
we breathe
and beat together
as if in sympathy.

One hand is always yours,
and there is great affinity,
all fingers clasped
and later more relaxed
but always joined,
the others seek
like missiles of
the flesh
the heat,
your sleeping skin....
a magnet that attracts
and pulls me close,
I love my lucky leg
between your silky thighs
and brushing up
as if by accident
and not design
against your self,
so moist and wondersome
I dare not move.

I counted once,
you turn some thirty times,
there comes the moment
when your cheeks
present themselves
in full and soft mirage,
oh, let the softness
of it always be for me,
I stroke,
caress until the moon has seen
what two will do
to understand
the call of love.

Herbert Nehrlich 2

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nights-6/