He took his time, moving slowly, outlining her body with the touch of a long-time lover.
He knew exactly what he wanted to give her.
He let his memory take control. There was no detail of her that escaped his eyes.
Or his hands.
His light, soft strokes followed the familiar, round curve of her wide hips, only half covered
by the white sheet that draped lazily over the edge of the bed.
He gently brushed the ends of her sun-streaked hair, just barely covering the back of her neck,
almost touching her shoulder.
He outlined the rise of her full breast. One light stroke made the nipple erect.
He felt her familiar form take shape under his hand.
He stood up and stepped back.
He gazed intently at the canvas, satisfied and spent.
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My musings.........my thoughts.........my self
10 comments:
A wonderful demonstration of how passion can take many forms, some giving rise to others.
Nicely done.
jim - thank you, sir...feels like I just got an "A".
A+
what's this?
Does it deceive m'eyes?
what's this?
Poetry for a rise?
How warm and intimate
invitingly so, and yet....
Canvas being so sedate
will probably not get either wet
I'll bet.
or, maybe it will...
who can tell?
Still.....
very nice.
Good one Jean!
Boneman - your sketch inspired me, what can I say? For me, dreams are worth holding onto.
Curmudgeon - thanks, Dave!
VERY NICE
Jean, Nice rhythm, passion in the text, image producing structure. You have always had the knack. Buckeye
loria - thank you, dear lady.
Buckeye - good to see you here again, busy man...thanks.
Sgt Hook...is that really you??
wow...I am honored.
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