I know about perception, yours. <br />you always seem to know <br />when impulses descend <br />down from my brain right to the end <br />where eager nerves feed aging loins. <br />And, oh so unbeknownst to you <br />this little secret shall be always mine <br />it is the sight of naked cheeks <br />as they emerge from vinyl drapes; <br />two firm and luscious bosco pears <br />flushed pink and just a touch of damp.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-turn-on/
