Following.

She wore high heels,
Like they were made for her,
As if born to that,
Tiptoed stance.
My eye wandered,
Up a fishnet line,
Caught and struggling,
In that walking dance.
Her skirt was short,
That seem just so,
A lil’ bit intentional,
That teasing hem.
It moved with her,
Sliding up,
Getting shorter,
To heaven.
Her hips called,
Like a bullhorn yell,
Swaying as if caught,
In a gale.
Side to side,
Like a pendulum run,
Hypnotizing all,
I wish buttons were brail.
And oh that blouse,
Sheer and soft,
Allowing views,
Of sheer delight.
A back so lean,
Yet so soft,
I wanted to unhook,
What held her tight.
Her hair was long,
Shined in the light,
like a red beam,
Of perfection.
And as she left me,
In that days waning light,
I had to ask,
For directions.

Following.

  • Artwork Comments 2

Artwork Comments

  • Melodyone
  • Roger Sampson
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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