Out damned urge...
Color Me Near
I saw her today
Backlit in sepia
In chocolate and cream
Thru a door, but only a part.
Stockinged limbs
Draped over edge
Feet dangling, to swing
She reclines, lies
Speaking quietly to whom?
And I am rapt.
Refusing (or unable?) To move
I gaze and all else around fades,
Seeing only the girlish cadence with
No cares in the sway.
Captured as I am
By the sight
By the vision,
She unknowingly
Holds me to her,
And the heart is ripped, torn
For stay I must
Through the urging
To hold, to touch, to carress
Wishing to kiss and
Trace my lips
Along her smooth
Supple fullness
To her ankle, sweetly turned,
To the finely shaped,
Delicate ordered row
And I can taste.
And I can find.
Having it then
Only stronger the
Yearning is made.
She needs only to speak
And her servant becomes.
She is pictures
In my mind
This among the sweetest
And the rarest.
If life be a canvas,
She is the color
That springs in my arms.
Comments and constructive criticism are welcome...I suppose. God bless.
I saw her today
Backlit in sepia
In chocolate and cream
Thru a door, but only a part.
Stockinged limbs
Draped over edge
Feet dangling, to swing
She reclines, lies
Speaking quietly to whom?
And I am rapt.
Refusing (or unable?) To move
I gaze and all else around fades,
Seeing only the girlish cadence with
No cares in the sway.
Captured as I am
By the sight
By the vision,
She unknowingly
Holds me to her,
And the heart is ripped, torn
For stay I must
Through the urging
To hold, to touch, to carress
Wishing to kiss and
Trace my lips
Along her smooth
Supple fullness
To her ankle, sweetly turned,
To the finely shaped,
Delicate ordered row
And I can taste.
And I can find.
Having it then
Only stronger the
Yearning is made.
She needs only to speak
And her servant becomes.
She is pictures
In my mind
This among the sweetest
And the rarest.
If life be a canvas,
She is the color
That springs in my arms.
Comments and constructive criticism are welcome...I suppose. God bless.