Wool Socks

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Wool Socks

The next morning
seeking food and espresso
our fingers touch
a current runs through us
it draws your eyes to mine.

Over the sound of our laughter
and the smell of burnt toast
our night of passion
replays in our minds.

Those eyes seeking my eyes in the dark
the lingering kisses
down my body
right there…
the physical weight of you on me
our moans music to our ears.

Wool socks is all
I wore to breakfast that morning.

The naked closeness
excited him
as she licked
sticky marmalade
from his fingers.

He gathered her up
but they sank to the floor
their urgent needs
send breakfast scattering.

© RebeccaSanchez 2015

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