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Sunday Morning
In bed on Sunday morning,
She runs her big toe lazily
Up and down my naked calf
Leaving thin white lines
Where her toenail meets my skin.
She says she loves me, and I say
My heart is a trailer park
Crowded with feelings for her.
She asks innocently,
"Lots of feelings?"

by Doug Tanoury

[The Wedding Poem | Like the Birds | Promise | Sunday Morning | Latin Hymns]

This poem is Copyright 2001

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