Soft Supple Skin

Touch is orphan to sight and sound,

Oft neglected, seldom noted,

Goes untasted and untested.

Simply taken as for granted until

Dark of night surrounds

And we struggle with the muggle

As other senses have been bested.

 

None can lie or scarce deny

The sensory elation

That cast upon the fingertips

In featherlike sensations.

Cloaked in effervescent rains

The tidal rush ascends.

No higher intoxication

Than the kiss of supple skin.

 

Lying soft in fond embrace,

Tender smiles caress your face.

A gentle kiss upon your nape

That says so much but leaves no trace.

And I am left with dire yen

To touch you once and once again

To know that heaven can descend with

The brush of soft and supple skin.

 Lulu Storefront: https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/dsmartin