The Golden Spiral

She absentmindedly twirled

the few hairs on his chest.

He feigned sleep and mindfully

enjoyed her caress.

They’d just met,

and yet,

it was time for breakfast.

She caressed his chest,

He was engulfed by the scent

of her tresses

…and slightly distracted by the

golden spiral

of her breasts.

© CGT, 2017.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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