Leta Mae Poe
For every movement, for every sound,
There is always an echo...somewhere.
The bikini girl runs along the beach,
Hips swaying...body talk. She knows the boy is there.
She stubs her toe, and her voice cries out...
A faked, wordless cry. Only her eyes flash invitation.
The boy leaps...wide eyed, the girl runs laughing,
Staying but inches from his reach.
The dainty sandpiper stalks the muscular sea.