Song
skin twists
beneath the wide arch of water
and the hard plastic sweats a cool clear liquid
and thin streams tendril along the floor
hair turns
amidst the fine spray of droplets
and the square white soap expands in her fingers
and air flows beside water
lips move
around long sweet syllables
and hot breath becomes steam and sound
and notes fly from the cellophane walls
because today, her arms wrapped
snugly around the wide warm swell that is her stomach,
she is happy.
Author's notes: Has "Colours" seen a poem that isn't a love letter before?