NAKED POEM FROM MY KITCHEN

These words come to you from my kitchen,    
Lovingly writ, without a stitch on,    
With blind drawn, just as dawn is breaking,    
Not yet thought what breakfast I'm making,  
While I tap away at my laptop,  
So caught in the moment I can't stop  
Pouring out the words my mind does make  
That made me leave bed before day break  
To offer you, my sweetheart and muse,  
Words to make you smile, not to abuse.
Laptop on table, me in a chair,
Except for spectacles fully bare.
Tucking into this poetic food,    
Think of me in my tiled kitchen, nude.
If this gift of cooking up such verse
You see as a blessing, not a curse,
Thank God for the creativity    
Outworked in Adam-like nudity
.    
Does this make you feel you want to be    
In that kitchen now and here with me,    
Your own woman's touch, intuition,    
Freely offered, no inhibition;    
Or, in act of solidarity,    
Do your breakfast in all your glory?    
(It may be that you already do;    
So I'm not suggesting something new.)    
Perhaps you can tell me on your phone,    
When you too are naked and alone,    
Returning to me the compliment    
Of a hearfelt message, bare-ly sent,  
Without pretence of 'Sir' and 'Madam';  
Rather like pre-Fall Eve and Adam,  
Enjoying God's sight equality,  
Intimacy and security.  
In words, with hearts and minds let us play,  
Dialogue. Respondez s'il vous plais.