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Annie Lorraine
It is rich black coffee,
Dark and warm and energizing
It is a woman
sitting on the back porch
of a house on a hill
gazing at a dogwood tree,
smooth pink and white petals
against a blue sky,
her milky pearl skin
reflecting the sun.
A bucket of beer on ice
she shares with her companion.
It is a late night drive,
Long and random and peaceful
It is a man
lounging in a woven hammock
hung upon his back porch,
absorbed in the sight
of rays of brilliant sun
kissing radiant pale skin,
singing a soft and gentle song.
A voice of silk and heavy cream,
like all soft and flowing things,
he shares with his companion.
