Her breasts are rarely still
they rise and fall
like children playing leapfrog
slip into the coves of her armpits
at night when she sleeps
and hang like overripe fruit
above my mouth.
They swing in heavy seduction
under tee shirts
shadow dance with my hands
behind moon-laced curtains
and pillow the soft beat
of my heart
when the rain comes
falling.











~Meg




Lane









Thank you, Marc, for your never ending support. I will be by your poetry tonight or tomorrow...I've missed reading it. Love, Lane

you are soooo pretty! I love your avatar. Thank you, Cheryl, for all your kind words and the little yellow dudes 

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