He

He loves to watch me scribble    
when I am sitting at the table  
in his poetic mind  
my slender fingers holding a quill  
exploring the depth of my soul  
Truly is extremely sensual    
   
Glance at him    
step out from the shower    
swathed in a white towel  
the air is fermented  
by emitting the scent of lavender  
I call to him, “Hold me, babe!”    
and stop writing while he is approaching  
look at his broad chest  
   
He raises his eyes and shares a stare  
see the smile I have been craving for  
I thought he is going to lift me  
and put me on the bed  
but he dresses up instead    
attaches his chest to my back    
lays his chin on my shoulder  
holds his breath    
watches me play with words  
   
His romanticism  
deciphers my poems into the beauty  
which he considers an oriental mystery  
ah, the mysticism    
just what he has imagined about me    
my ancient poet from Sung Dynasty  
the great mystic master Su Tong Po    
now has become his new idol  
   
His sensibility  
leads his affection toward me    
beyond blood and body  
when I try hard to stifle yawning  
he bends forward and holds me up    
tucks me in bed  
kisses my forehead  
caresses my silky black hair  
until I fall into deep sleep  
   
This is the love we cherish    
soul to soul  
like a magnet to metal  
spirit to spirit  
like a lake reflection  
faith to faith  
like a compass to the north  
more than skin on skin  
beneath my seductive flesh