When you feel it.
That urge that is no urge at all.
That desire that is no desire at all.
More of an inclination.
The image of soft white bed on a Saturday morning.
Two bodies sleeping next to each other.
Slowly they awake,
Look at each other,
And stay gazing.
The softness of their gaze matches the softness of the sheets stretching under their even softer naked bodies.
A small movement.
A hand graciously finding its way to the neighboring body.
A gentle up-and-down movement of a hand exploring the contours of this strange body.
Exploring each curve, each mark, each bump,
Followed by the persistent ever watching eye.
That urge that is no urge at all.
That desire that is no desire at all.
That act of simple getting to know your lover's body under a sunlit white sheets on a Saturday morning.
That urge that is no urge at all.
That desire that is no desire at all.
More of an inclination.
The image of soft white bed on a Saturday morning.
Two bodies sleeping next to each other.
Slowly they awake,
Look at each other,
And stay gazing.
The softness of their gaze matches the softness of the sheets stretching under their even softer naked bodies.
A small movement.
A hand graciously finding its way to the neighboring body.
A gentle up-and-down movement of a hand exploring the contours of this strange body.
Exploring each curve, each mark, each bump,
Followed by the persistent ever watching eye.
That urge that is no urge at all.
That desire that is no desire at all.
That act of simple getting to know your lover's body under a sunlit white sheets on a Saturday morning.