Saturday 11 April 2020

Tessellations


Tessellations



Lovely, oh yes, standing freshly drenched,
dripping warm water, wet on freckled skin
gift wrapped in only the smallest towel,
nearly knee length, interlocking patterns
falling forward, overtopping fine breasts
with so little covering most of the rest.


Beautiful woman I know so very intimately
of course, taller than me, but for all that
our spirits were level in grace; entwined
close and our minds sang in tessellations
before the fall, and in duets our smiles
shared sinful melodies under sunbeams.


Secret love, you’re quite here but slipping;
uncoalescing, flickering off vision, drifting
away on vapor sway of hot sauna steams.
Frowning at misty shadows that glisten,
blink, unsure if you can trust your sight,
shy smiling, come step forwards into light.


Beautiful and move me like heavy breathing,
stroke our damp towel, with fingers feeling
old heart linked contours bring soothing rains
writing our names in sand’s million grains
like these shapes drawn on your mirror now
in hope that you can glimpse me somehow.


Perfect statuesque, blind gazing right past
us, for true that’s all for everyone at last
where loving fun becomes one lost chance,
our band strikes up for one long last dance,
clinch in one pattern, locked in one waltz,
coupled step by step our one pas de deux.


Gorgeous blush frowning, brooding worry,
something has gone, searchlight memories
see figures dimming, impressions of steam
whirls, delicate mosaics swirling in dreams,
tongue-tipped tasted, remains unbound,
almost grasped stays noise without sound.


Beautiful, now you ghost walk right through
our two dancing phantoms, who once knew
how passionate the montage cross-faded
into a perfect finished cut, until time traded
love for disdain, bartered trust for treason,
showered snow across all warm reasons.


Fetching forms just out of focus, blurred,
as my voice screamed, it cannot be heard,
will never be, only unjigsaw puzzles remain
weak imprinting soft lines into softer skin,
where sunset falls on vanished emotions
sand tessellations are washed by oceans.






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