The Magic Touch

Your fingers are like…

A Butterflies touch

Dancing along my skin

Along my shoulders

Down my spine

Finding the spot that

Makes me shudder

From the spot to my

Threshold to

Many things

With every new session

Your butterfly fingers

Work its way

Lower and deeper

Into the spots that has never been worked

Your fingers are like

A quarterback dancing his way

Over my gridiron

With no blocks or fumbles

You tiptoe through my tulips

Until you reach my rose garden

Fluttering over my petals

With grace and poise

Working free my nectar

You’ve called yourself

The one with

The Magic Touch

And I must admit

You do have the right touch

By: Renée “Rouge” Carter

#Poetry