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Intertwined
The big game is on,
and so are we.
On the couch,
the reclining enganged,
we sit back,
prop up our feet,
are legs silky smooth
under dark nylons,
and trade knowing smiles
as we intertwine our legs.
The roaring crowd,
the dramatic announcers,
on the TV they cheer for
our love.
And the crowd roars with the
wiggling of our toes,
and the sensuality of our
kisses,
no matter what happens
on the field,
we're the biggest winners
of all.
Responding to this poem is
Responding to this poem is like catching the heat that pours off the sun. I like the Bowl event in the backgrouns while personal and intimate pleasure happens in the foreground.
Starward*Led (in Chrismation, Januarius)