They sly sun found its way
past the blinds invading
their secret darkroom and
exposing the barrage of clothing
strewn across the plush gray rug.
She yawned and ran her fingers
through her almost greasy
dishwater blond hair,
and he slipped out from under her
examining her milky folds of skin.
As he left this haven
to put on the Columbian Coffee,
“Today I’ll head west and
Poetry Table Of Contents Jennifer Hill Archives