Prelude

With the finger paint

Pink and living

Ridges and swirls

Pressing the cello ‘tring

On the belle of life

 

And the cat-gut

Stretch of a feline

Dawn

 

Arching its back

Across the hint

Of attraction

 

And the fluttery-buttery

Eyelash tickle

In the neck’s secret nape

 

And the bowstring quiver

As the belly dances

A teenage tune

 

Of blushes and wants

And messages

Bottled on a rising tide

 

And the careful

Word left unsaid

In case it wasn’t misread

 

But the tint

Of the hint

Is there

 

And can be denied

If the jury case

Was ever

Ever

Tried

 

In the catcher’s glove

Is held the first

Breath of

Love?

 

And the floating tipple

Fairy fly

Now casts its ripple

Upon the frond

Of the summer’s

Mills dream pond

 

And now tugs

Upon the line

And coyly toys

The wings of time

 

And feeds the drying

Skin of doubt

And starts

To let the feelings out

 

And the testing parry

Teases and warms

And probes the depth

Of his charms

 

And the gentle

Gentle praise

Hints that yes

She wants his ways

 

And that single tingle

Trickles down his spine

To make and to take

This woman to be as mine

 

And that first electric touch

That of course

Doesn’t really

Mean that much

 

Breaks the space

For all time

And holds the waist

That feels so… fine

 

And allows the tender dance

To pick the first pizzicato note

And as she shivers too

A quivering quaver is now wrote……