Thongs, bras, and fluffy socks
Lined up one by one
Standing at attention
Awaiting the call to arms
As it were
The day begins
Work, play, and
Foreplay
Familiar hands
Roll socks down
to massage tired feet
Fingers at the catches
Straps unloosed
Freedom from constraint
Lips on lips
Hands under straps
In tangled masses
They lay
Casualties of
The day
C'est la fin
Le jour est mort
Et commence
La petite morte
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very sensual. i like ure stanza style.