DreamEvil challenged me to write a poem about making love, not sex. And this is my interpretation of true love.
My hand reaches out to you
I marvel at the contrast in color
your darkness against my whiteness.
As a child I was taught to turn from you
because you were different,
because you were black.
I thank God everyday
that I didnít listen as a child
that I made my own choices.
As your arms enfold me in your embrace
I feel a love from you that I have never received
from anyone before you, no matter their color.
I watch my fingertips caress your smooth skin
warming them with the heat from your body.
The love in our souls.
And then I raise my eyes to yours
and I see you as you are, all that you are to me.
The man I love, my husband.