Making mistakes or causing Her any sort of grief.
(What She deserves is perfection. That is my belief)
The final caress of massage. She rolls and it is done.
(I never know which stroke is last. Best savour every one)
Not being there always, beside Her on the floor.
(I could assist in many ways, helping so much more)
“Good bye, boi…” The last of Her silky, husky tone.
(After time imagination forgets and invents it’s own…)
Waking to the real world. Making our time seem…
Even more as if it was unfairly all a dream.
Suitably Hers 