the massage

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  • Happiness

    the massage

    she gives me a hug before she lay me down on my back
    then she started touching my face, my shoulders
    she goes deeper, with good pressure
    and she started melting my worries
    my pains, my daily stress, my frustrations

    she keeps going on, with careful touch
    sometimes fast, most of the time relaxing and healing
    her hands are warm, with strong reassuring strokes
    her words are calming, full of compassion
    she ease my pains, she makes me feel good

    an hour seems not enough, she rocks my back
    ended everything with a light feathery touch
    give me a hug and a pat on the back
    that's my Josee Love, she just give me a great massage


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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Rhynn’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
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    the massage 0
    conditional love 0
    nothingness 0