Just My Imagination

 
Her deep sigh in our bed.

Beneath the covers, her knees spread.

Is it my imagination?

Does she seek accommodation?

Or is it just me?

How my mind always seeks.

Why that long breath departed.

The reason her legs parted.

It makes me want to close my eyes,

To walk my hand between her thighs.

Massaging as softly as I can, 

A gentle circling motion with my hand.

Listening for the slippery sound, 

Of pink wings parting beneath her mound.

Damn! I know it’s just my mind.

How my thoughts interpret the innocent sigh. 

But,  I just can’t help it when I see.

Her breast pressed against that blue nightie.

It’s red crest against the cloth, reveals, 

The feminine shape she tries so hard to conceal.

And how, when in bed she turns around, 

I could easily slip my hand beneath the gown.

And cup that fullness in my palm, 

Circling  my finger tips slowly around.  

Being careful at first not to touch.

The hardened peak where blood has rushed.  

Oh hell!  I can think it until I go insane.

And every night it’s one in the same! 

My mind’s joyful, enjoyable,  hardening creation. 

This inkling of mine, was just my imagination.