Your beard’s tender prickles

awaken my inverted teat from its slumber.

My lips touch your back now soft

with kisses reviving

muscles that once defined

the strength of your embrace.

Your large hands cradle my cheeks.

I lose myself in their dry calloused grooves

tracing back years of hard times

that yielded to moments of laughter.

I want to joyfully weep, but

you won’t let me.

Still can’t believe, even now

the happiness you brought.

 

   By Jeanette Martin