Bamboo Days

Bamboo days

Languid Sunday in a bamboo-blind room
Where we lay for the day with two bottles of wine,
Engrossed in the week laid out to be read
And Miles Davis added his brass-blessed notes
To the feel of your skin.

I trace each curve with my eyes,
My fingers, my tongue
And you stretch out with a sigh in the crackling pages
Of gathering wars and economic gloom.

The sun through the blind caresses your skin
With tiger lines that sway as you move
A diaphanous sheet on silk-smooth flesh
As you turn to face me once more
Eyes closed, lips set to whisper.
We kiss, a taste that lasts for the day
Of dry white grape on a salt bed of sweat
And the warmth of your arms
Banishes the sun's rays

Miles restarts his song.