Pluck
The scrolled headstock of the double bass
stands proud, dominates the pit - conduct it.
Your experienced hands should flex and grip,
bowing low groaned notes with supple grace.
His baritone's not yet tempered - guide it.
Place fingers over his, show where to press,
loose low cut silk kaftans, hot swelling breath,
breve him there in brave minims and crochet.
A resin dripped mystery to reveal
gold tresses, balled hay enough - play there.
Your curves you rest heavy beneath his hair
now awaken such melodies, he reels.
Your manuscript he trembles to unfold,
dreams lusty airs to scriven on your scroll.
No comments:
Post a Comment