The way those feet move;

how they sway when she sits upon the bed,

one curdled upon the other;

in an awkward embrace.

Each is delicate;

they are a warmth that be stills me,

so colorful;

arithmetic,

beautifully arranged.

Soft as embers emitted by a slow,

cool chase;

that darkness in-between the toes

is a world of mystery;

a part of the wonders that defy my own curiosity.

The one on the left has a lifted twist,

wishing for the other to protect and to turn.