Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

To Lainey on the Cam


As we drift upon the stream
On silvered light as in a dream,
The oars blades stored within the boat,
Languidly we drift and float;
You trail a finger in the water
On the liquid surface border,
Tipping back the punter’s chair,
You tilt your head, you loose your hair;
The sunlight speckles through the trees
Your white dress billows in the breeze,
You rest your bonnet in your lap,
It’s ribbon flutters and gently flaps;
The sun’s reflection makes you squint,
The dappled water cascades dints,
I view you in your restful pose,
How shamelessly you bare your toes;
It seems we could forever drift,
(I see your petticoat and shift) ,
Drawn on by the currents pace,
Your cuffs are hemmed with English lace;
We duck the boughs of reaching elms,
A canopy of shadowed realms,
Impulsively I steal a kiss,
Your lips are warm and don’t resist;
You pluck a leaf from out my hair,
You stare at it with wondrous care;
You tuck it in your neckline bodice,
Throat high buttoned and teasing modest.

Submitted: Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, June 19, 2013
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