The simple joy, of being nude

Not for me the tight embrace,
unyielding suits, false marks of grace,
nor yet the stifling, grasping hold
of fashions when in one's youth were old.

Not for me the tailor's chalk,
The cloth, the weave, the mindless talk
of benefits the work may bring
or other worthless, weary thing.

No, for me the gentle caress of air,
the tender, tousled, tussled hair
of one who feels the Joys of Spring,
the sheer delight that bluebells bring.

The bliss, the thrill of air on skin,
the happiness and peace within,
and in this list, I must include
the simple joy, of being nude.

Copyright Howard Anderson, May 2010