Jealous of the cloth
Soft fabric which drapes,
Hides, conceals, yet, clings,
Displays, daring to touch you,
All of you, throughout the day,
Keeping your secrets to itself,
Waving coyly at me as you pass,
As if to say, it can touch
And I cannot,
It can watch each movement,
Feel the rise and fall of each breath,
The glide of legs, then,
At end of day,
As it drops to the floor,
Be lifted in your arms,
Crushed to your breast,
As you, dance naked
To the hamper.
Donovan Baldwin