i strained to read lips that read words at a whisper,
behind hypnotizing curls black like campfire smoke
dizzyingly dark, do dream filled eyes devour,
as perfectly parted pink lips mouthed syllables that tempt
my throat to dry and my own lips to lick.
she sat
her supple mahogany brown skin
wrapped in fur lined bomber jacket,
her mind held captive
in a small, green
book.
there, by the ferry window she sat
still quiet echoing inside
in a moment of pondering gaze,
book lowered and head did raise
as we docked, both rose, and went our separate ways
leaving me to wonder …
wha twas it that she recited in silent soliloquy
which swam so safely ‘round her mind ?
from such a small book, with assumedly small lines,
to hold hands with such poetry
It must’ve been a truly
beautiful
write.