Reworked, from an old poem once inspired originally by a lover now long gone. The present one left his lingering trace when he stayed over one night midweek.
Softly roused, I lie wrapped in the linen
the same one last night with the crisp fragrance
until we lay on it and in between;
I revel in its crumpled redolence –
a memory of our urgent embrace
lays waste my chaste plans to quietly sleep
Distracted by your lingering musky trace
I slip, dream-filled into moist fleshfolds deep.
Savouring a piquant bouquet, erotic
invoking swells and ebbing, rhythmic
The images of our evening’s frolic
in sharp relief against my mind’s optic
I draw in, like a drug this aroma
It calls up your sensual persona.