Poem for her 313

Dear Readers,



Left side


The hands touched the left calf
Then the thumbs on muscle pulled to ankle
The ankle was held and moved and rubbed
The toes moved and pulled and softened
The toenails were painted by others
These hands are mine, on her ankles
I do touch the right one too
But right now it is the left one
The one that was not done this morning
So as I move my fingers on the bones
And skin as soft as can be and still touch
I make her sigh and she almost sleeps
Then as I move her foot this way and that
Just like this morning, I lick her toes
She wakes but sighs again and again.

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.