By 
Luxury . . . hmmm
Every day is a luxury of sorts
The glide of warm sheets beneath my feet
Shared knowing in a lover’s slumberous eyes
A lover’s whisper, warming to the core
The pulse of heart and breath intertwined
Before I’m released into one
Singular again
Heighten skin
I breathe
Every fiber of my being relishing life
Quiver and quake, stretch and yawn
In the morning sun
Savoring steamy, pulsating moisture
Of cleansing water
Inhaling sumptuous aromas
I salivate
Your taste upon my tongue
Nourished again, whole in that spot
I luxuriate in my flesh
Senses titillated
By an orgy of stimulants
Luxury . . . hmmm
My skin
Harlem Inner City Blues: Random Thoughts 