Both women lay bathed in the most beautiful light.

You are draped across the bed,

jeans and a check shirt.

I lay opposite,

my shoulders appear relaxed.

You laugh, strangled desire

paints the room white.

I, a voyeur of the hidden moments of my own mind,

watch an intimate conversation unfold.

For dear friends. What can I say-they like to shower :P

Travelling everywhere I please,

over hills and valleys and

through every crevice

I caress the very nature

of her being.

I am what no man can be,

exactly what is needed

at the right time, all the time

I may even bring her

to her knees.

 

For my Mum, who always makes me feel better, whether it's a chat on the phone or those wonderful times when we can be together and have a proper old natter and a cup of tea in the kitchen by the range (for those who don't know-a large stove).

We drink tea and sit by the range,

chatting for hours about local news,

how we've been passing the time

since we last saw each other

and who has died

this week in Eastenders.

It is as always and will

ever be-having a cup of tea,

by the warmth of the fire

with my friend, my mother.