Gerard Rochford's July poem
My tongue barely detects your lashes;
I tease your ear-lobes with finger and thumb,
blink a butterfly-kiss on your cheek.
Who taught me that? My big sister.
The crook of your arms and knees,
a bend at your wrist – neatly my lips rest there.
I circle your tummy button,
soft curlicue seal of birth.
Mouth-perfect a hollow above the base of your spine.
I tweak your toes – ten delights with laughter,
then stroke along and below those feet
which touch the earth we share.
Hand-in-hand we walk our days,
savouring the gifts of night.
Gerard lives in Aberdeen. He is the Scottish Review's Makar and contributes a poem each month. Publications include: 'Failing Light' – Embers Handpress and 'Of Love and Water' – Koo Press/Malfranteaux Concepts