I remember that night,

when you washed my hair.

As I melted in the heat,

that your hands did share.


The massage was so wonderful,

your hands were a gift.

You relaxed me completely,

I was tempted to drift.


I received so much pleasure,

from your wonderful fingers.

My skin still tingles,

for the memory does linger.


Now, every time that I wash my hair,

I’ll remember that night,

when your hands were there…


By Sylvia Porter-Hall


Remembering You


I find myself often remembering you,

wondering about all the things we never got to do.

I remember the way that you used to smile,

in a way that reflected your own special style.

I remember how you would say the most beautiful things,

in my mind and ears your words still ring.

I remember your voice ~ it’s still very clear,

the way you spoke without a trace of fear.

I remember how physically fit you were,

just watching you move made something in me stir.

The wonderfully cut muscles ~ so strategically placed,

on your strong black frame, so perfectly encased.

Remembering you brings to my heart great pleasure,

for our brief time together, I will always treasure.

Remembering how you filled my heart and touched my very soul,

all my love and attention, you skillfully stole.

I guess remembering is really not such a crime,

as my memories of you grow fonder with time.


By Sylvia Porter-Hall