Afterwards, we lay still as light.
Great gray roots cradle the last
Swell of our bodies. Underneath,
Yellow-green moss grows tune.
I strum along her white arm.
Back and forth, my fingertips play
Until a moist murmur leaps
To land abuzzing on my lips.
I smile and gaze down at the moss.
Softer than the kick of her kiss,
It greens, as graves, her feet
And turns to her graceful ankles.
At rest, my eyes glitter while closed.