Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereIt isn’t quite like leaving cookies
and milk for Santa. I know
that you are real, just somewhere else
in your own happy life,
with children and dogs and a husband
and, probably, a mortgage
you wish was paid off.
That’s me too. Less the children,
the mortgage, the dogs.
And I don’t have a husband.
But these little poems I leave you
are prayers.
They're how I get to stroke your hair
and curl your shoulder
into mine.
So I will leave them, like those mushroom things
that grow over night in your lawn.
Something amazing
that appears overnight,
like my finger, if it was ever as I might wish,
drawn slow and long over your exquisite jaw.