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At His House


A Poem by An Ordinary Woman

I am comfortable enough

to sink in cushions of conversation

and comfortable enough

to lose myself in mindless magic

of his dinner table,

where winks are sweeter than wine.

I am comfortable enough

to slip in bubbled tub,

with tipsy toes touching

and laughter

making our belly's full.

I'm comfortable enough

to do this again tomorrow.

... And I might.


© 2009 An Ordinary Woman



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