The dust motes look startled!

Floating invisibly one moment
then caught in a sumbeam the next

like convicts caught in a jailbreak.

They dance before me
delightful in themselves

above the fluffy towel
with which you have just

dried your delicious self
& left forgotten on the floor.

I pick up after you
(as always)

stand there surrounded

by dust motes
like alien creatures

this the dead skin of you
furiously flaked off in your drying

but still beloved to me
remembering how it was

when I kissed it
on naked arm...bum or thigh

and how it made me sigh then

and sigh even now

passing through this
dust cloud of you

loving every little

bit of you.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-in-sunlight-for-frieda-rose/