Back of the thigh scratch

Oh this itch is

getting to me that

much I have to

scratch it and momentarily

forget my ails as

that pleasant seduction that

nail scrapes against skin

and itch combine to

gloat you in a

bliss unlike anything except

maybe kissing, or eating,

or sex, or watching

your favourite team play,

or spending the arvo

with friends in a

game, or a bbq

on a warm spring

day, or spending time

in the pool, or

walking the open trees

of a quiet country

scene — just you and

me. Yep, an itch

scratched measures on that

level, and perhaps more.

 

© 2017 L. Tafa

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Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

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