Touching Your Hips

by f-cynyr ©

I know touching your
hips, that in ages hence,
someone beyond me will
reside in the summer green
of your eyes.

And they will, like me now,
be touching your hips with
wishes on their breath and
allure in their mouth.

And like me, they will drift
in the folds of your body and
ride the puffing billows
of your warmth.

And I will ache, when ages hence,
my hands will be empty
of the heat and form that
my palms and fingers now
decode and solve.

And ages hence, the cavity of
your absence will throb in my
collapsing chest and I will be lost
in the vastness of my future without
the buoyancy of your breath and
the promise of your hips.