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Quietly she reads
As my heart loudly pounds
Straight posture, her presence cedes
An eloquence that is beyond my slouching bounds.
Diligently reading, and literary captured,
As I, with my foot on my book, observe
A soft beauty, that with a polite air, has raptured
My heart, and begraced my pen, for such I will never deserve.
Silently with the scent of perfumed air,
And a slight pinch of luscious lips,
Her passionate determinism is more than I can bare.
Subtle tease, her face hidden, as past her face her hair slips.
In sensuous contemplation does her finger turn
From thoughtful chin to provocative lip.
To replace such a delicate finger, do my lips yearn
But will not, in knowing the consequences of such a slip.
In graceful affirmation of my attention,
She tousles waves of brown hair
And smiles pleasantly, a sign of my detection.
Disheartedly, I smile as tension fills the air.
I open my mouth, and my tongue stalls.
She laughs, nervously, and then her eyes lie.
Looking deep into my soul as I fall
Deep into her's, eye to eye.
Robert L. Bixler III
| Submitted Date |
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Sunday, November 07, 2004 |
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Poets
