It’s friday night
and the lights are low
when she enters
to break up the bar fight
fight over
a little suggestive banter
now she and I
are involved in our own
friendly physical “tussle”
getting in the swing
she’s left on
only her shirt
unbuttoned
blousing open
her golden shield
gleams aureate
in the glow of candlelight
she’s so beautiful
young and sweet
her breasts
partially veiled
accented in lace
soft in the amber wash
gently rise and fall
with her heavy breath
everything is fine
enticed
my eyes glide her length
fondled warmly
by the lush half-light
folding upon her
from the single flame
they pause
entranced
by the velvet flower
sensuously shadowed
in the satin cleft
where supple limb
meets supple limb
ooh, see that girl!
intoxicated by this vision
I can only stare
helplessly captured
utterly arrested
she got her man
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse