( Tryst )

Coming and going
cunning little dimples appear
as I breathe a breeze
following your hairline.

Yawning and stretching
your slowly opening eyes
blaze in blue,
reflecting the gleam in mine.

A line down your neck;
a light rap
homing in on the hollow
at the start at your shoulders.

I count your pores,
I can´t finish
they stand like stars
in the heaven of your skin.