Caressing Contrabass Poem by Margaret Alice

Speaking with the eyes, real admiration shining in
a stranger’s eyes is light-years ahead of language,
when eyes talk, your heart comes to a standstill, it
touches you at a level words cannot reach

Puppy-dog eyes are powerful, eye-speak changes
your feelings – I have to rework every scene when
the effect of a significant look had been left out, if
I hadn’t stopped to allow my characters

Enough time to stare at each other for a period of
time - expressing feelings verbally is meaningless,
language only works in written form, your physical
presence relies on power of sight

Without that, the tactile sense of touch – satin skin,
a voice caressing you with contrabass, highlighted
by golden sunshine, will also do the trick – but that
I have only heard in ‘flicks’*

Therefore, my stories rely on eye-speak and contra-
bass; appearance, cheekbones, lips and half-closed
eyes - youthful stupidity as found in muscle hunks -
doesn’t work for me, doesn’t work visually

It is sound and touch and puppy-dog eyes that will
do it all, but I have only seen it on three occasions,
a Portuguese, a Frenchman, a Greek; how big the
chance of seeing it ever again?

Very small, I suppose, other nationalities cannot
communicate through their eyes...