I love the soft bottoms of your feet I'd touch them, palm to palm, when I was in you so you'd feel me, your ground, warm earth coming to you—assurance: I am here, little woman, don't fret. I love your simple need - to feel like love will stay; for once—dare not speak it, but quiet hope: "I will love you, I will be yours, I will be supple and soft of spirit." I love your punchy timing. You got my goat when I least expected. Your own drumbeat. There is nothing like humor atop beauty.