From Memory

Shoulders,
smooth, delicate and
finely-boned. They used to
peek out at me over the top of
that blue summer-dress.
They smelled like lilies.
They were always warm.

Arms,
thin and lithe, with
deceptive strength. They would
wrap around me in joy at the
time of meeting, and reluctant acceptance
upon farewells, and rapturous
indulgence in other, consensual times.

Hands,
like a pianist's.
Long fingers, well-manicured.
They were never still, and could
partake in some
interesting movements, when the time was right.
Always the sapphire ring, on the right one.

Breasts,
round and full,
pale and firm.
They were the most restful
place for me, at times. And would tempt me
from behind sweaters.
Areolae the color of a tea-rose.

Stomach,
taut, smooth, pale.
A little pooch at the lower end,
it would accept my
caresses when embraced
from behind.
A very small belly button.

Hips,
curvy, like the sides of a
bell. Perfect for grabbing
in moments of passion.
Not thick,
not thin.
Just ideal.

Pussy,
pink as a kitten's nose.
Warm and inviting.
It was my salvation,
my obsession.
The folds looked like
a cathedral ceiling.

Legs,
strong and muscular,
well-shaped.
They would run to meet me,
they would wrap around me.
There was a butterfly birthmark
behind the left knee.

Feet,
long and narrow,
high arches.
Extremely ticklish,
which is why they were not
pedicured.
Second toe longer than the big one.

Ass,
tight and round,
fit the hips perfectly.
It would tease me as
the legs walked away,
in that perfect pair of
faded blue jeans.

Back,
cat-like in its
stretches, without
blemish.
It often bore more
burdens than it
realized.

Hair,
ebon, long,
softer than any word spoken.
It took my caresses as
only its due. I never saw it
held by anything but my hand.
Fine and thick and sometimes dishonest.

Lips,
wide and full,
flushed and velvety.
They kissed my own lips,
and my neck,
and so many other parts of me.
They loved to whistle.

Eyes,
the color of spring leaves,
wide and darkly lashed.
When they looked
into the world,
they changed the way I saw things.
They melted me.

Voice,
low and sweet,
soft Southern twang.
It called my name,
and awakened new
ideas in me.
Laughter like bells.

Time,
it keeps moving,
keeps passing,
long after you
are gone.
And sometimes
my heart tells me
that I'm
forgetting you.

Close my eyes,
bring my mind back
to all the moments
I won't have again.
Concentrate,
with all I have,
and say my prayers,
private and heartfelt.
Hopes of you.

Sometimes the
only thing that keeps me
in this life,
is knowing I can
paint this portrait of you.
Full and clear.
From memory.