Page 28 - just saying....
P. 28
unmade bed
sheets rumpled, shape
of your body, smell
of your skin.
I lie down on the bed
remember
frolicking
on those sheets,
scented candle,
Frank Sinatra,
tender spoken words.
in the kitchen I brew
chamomile tea,
still feel the glow
of your touch,
passion of evening. 
