a sparrow sings outside the glass
Ann senses a coming question
his finger tracks down her forearm
cotton sheets crisp like sandpaper
fresh laid carpet now springs upward
then of course there is the sweet taste
of cold peaches sublime peaches
the musty brick smell of street rain
small girls whispering a secret
warm of sun and cool of shadow
cry for milk baby cry for milk
mystery of thunder without
the scalpel stab wound of lightning
how does he dare express his hope
how does he ask her quiet face
my love do the blind dream in feel
– William J. Karnowski
Comments on: "28. Senses" (1)
Stimulating. Almost sensual.