Fingers Tease Lips
Even the way you read,
has the power to command,
my fullest of attention.
You casually raise a hand aloft,
a searching finger homes in,
seeking a lip to caress,
a tongue to draw moisture,
when you return to flick,
to flick away the old page,
and draw in the new.
Studying the article, immersed
zoned out to the hullabaloos,
the kids shouting, laughing,
as your eyes covet news.
A perfect symphony is playing,
your mind overcome with attention.
And I dare to hope again,
that your fingers touch my lips.
I notice your eyes hugging,
page after wonderful page,
captivating as you capture me.
I'm a lost cause, admiring grace.
Poetry of form embracing life,
love, literature and the
black on white typeface nectar.
Is my time wasted on this,
a fantasy of knowing how?
Just how I could be the one,
your eye search for in the dark,
who receives the tenderness from,
soft manicured and pretty hands.
Hands who's fingers are divine,
slender fingers, not like mine.
Crafted from the art of love's,
who's fingers tease like velvet gloves.