My Angel,
So you feel my work has taken something of a wrong turn?
Veered have I toward the native black reparations cause,
Babygirl, an artist of integrity must reflect the times
Today, however, I’m putting my political ferocity on pause
Just long enough to escape with you from North America
To an as-yet-unspoiled paradise of forest, sand and beach,
Where coconuts and bananas grow free from chemicals
My love, a Pamper-Her-Friday utopia is not out of reach
Our flight departs at nine; I’ll be at your doorstep by six
I’m bringing with me a generous hug and a kiss,
If you found yourself smiling as you read that previous line
Woman, you’ve just been enraptured by the Rg2 bliss:
To instigate, not regurgitate, the gray matter of your mind
A seasoned man can make love to a woman without touch,
You’ve been reading my proseworks with many a bated breath
The moisture in your eyes and between your thighs is such
A long-held spritz of latent energy needing release
You’re that mocha woman on whom everyone depends,
The Democratic Party takes you for granted, as does family
Your bones are fragile and, late nights, the muscle ache begins
You know why? The very absence of my therapeutic hands
Has been the antidote you’ve too long gone without,
I’m just the man your body’s been calling for this summer
To pamper your tender limbs is a precious law I won’t flout
Let’s get away . . . from all this domestic terrorism and hate
The country needs more of you and me but, gosh, timeout,
I wanna gather my breath with you, take a moment or two
To revisit what being in the company of a lovely woman’s about
The tropical sunrise greets us in the morning as we lay
Your head rested peacefully atop my chest—angel-like,
Toucans and songbirds morning chirping in the distance
Daybreak poetry I’ll recite to you like a whisperer on a mic
Dedicated to you, only you, it goes something like this:
Were I to inhale the scent of your hair, woman, I dare,
To caress thee, might you hold onto me to infinity
In need of love repair, we both, for truly we care
None more than I of you . . . here, in my arms, I say
No other place I’d rather be on this Pamper-Her-Friday
. . . than with you.
Poetically yours,
Rg2
______
***
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2
© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®
Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 