A Fantasy. Poem by James McLain

Her voice, catching his ear
distracts him from,
those when, becoming wet.

And her eyes, they follow
as his gaze is upon them.
Those of hers
and she knows he would
for that which is, they are.
Not only lips
and salty sweet each cut
his hands,
hers full, his being emptied of.

Her thoughts are like the waves
foamy froth the edge.
And the noise is not his alone
the sea disguises,
from her eyes.

Which seeks out each their
true intentions.
The sea it sucks them in.

Her kisses are there, she says.
His will, it grows as well
she knows.

When beneath the waves
Between he goes to hide.
The sea is warm and soft.

Where he is moving, never quiet
she comes to speak.
And where she will never come
too sleep, he weeps.

Standing still her arms each wave
his tears, she washes off.