Exposed

She’ll wonder how

Many hairs are grey

If your heartbeat

Feels the same.

Consider the new

Wrinkle by her eye,

And which stress

It was cause by.

Crisp morning air 

Will cause her 

Red curls to dance,

Would it affect

You, by chance?

First blush will arise

Around her,

Comforts of home:

Ground, she clings to.

Simple house shoes, worn

Her toes content

Ankles exposed.

Behind fawn wool,

A woman’s desire shown.

Frozen concrete steps

She sits upon gracefully

Allows for silence,

Awakening a quiet

Reflective dawn;

Her serenity.

Each timed breath,

Causes movement

Beneath her 

Heaving breasts,

Proving control:

A lady’s weakness.

Yet you’re aware,

Her day has begun

And still,

She’ll want, require

The comfort

Of you,

Her Eastern Sun.

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22 thoughts on “Exposed

  1. A beautiful moment in absorbing the dawn. The line about control intrigued me, in that I wondered if a limit was set to how much the dawn was appreciated. Or maybe I’m reading the wrong thing into your poem.

  2. Love is about not hiding who you are at your core, feeling safe enough to expose the gray hairs on your head and the self doubt in your heart, but still know the Eastern Sun accepts the whole of you. The whole of you because people don’t come in chosen parts. You, of course, said it better.

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