Poetry

Outside there’s a brigade
of yellow umbrellas in the sun,
covering the white-brown beach
 
and on the bed you lay just out of reach,
sleeping with a innocence
that lies about our intimate acts
 
and on the wall I watch a line of small ants
running past on their own tracks
before you turn and reach out to me
 
and I feel your heart beating
while one of your breasts
are pressed against my face
 
and know that my goddess is awake
and just now we will shower together,
prepare for the day, have a great breakfast,
take some towels and make this summer
sun and sea our very own.