And you never complain

There’s a goddess before me,
I don’t know her name, but
Her eyes are like wishing wells,
Her hair is like flame, her fingers
Are elegant, and her jaw line:
Refined, her cheeks? They are
Dimpled, and so’s her behind,
I think on her fondly, as I go
Through my day, the curve of
Her shoulders to the sway
Of her hips, the firmness of her
Thighs and the press of her lips,
And when I come home, and
Disrobe … we can play, I’ll
Dress you in the outfits you wore
In that store window, that place
That I freed you from, “You don’t
Have to worry, they’ll never
Find you,” I mutter, as I put my mouth
On you, and taste the accumulated
Flavor of our three weeks together.