That Line Poem by Robert Melliard

I love the line that brushes down your neck,
then curves around your shoulder
and strays along your side.

I love the way it turns in at your waist;
not quite as much as it did once
but still enough...
and how it glides round hip and thigh
and skirts your knee and skims on down,
then curls around your feet and toes
and wanders up, and round again.

This poem shows I love that line:
I'm getting dizzy trying to trace it...