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The mirror and I

As I crossed the landing I caught sight of her

Brushing her hair in a full-length mirror,

Straight from the shower she might have been

The work of Botticelli or some other genius with

A paintbrush, I'd seen her this way lots of times

Before but tonight my heart leapt causing me

To gasp.


Did she know I was watching? Yes, I think she

Did, hard to disguise a sharp intake of breath

It somehow travels… Tummy tight in step-in

French panties she was putting on a show for

A one-man audience and so I took my seat for

The second act.


It is not hard to love a beautiful woman, to lavish

Her, ravish her, devour her with every kiss. Beyond

The body there is the mind and when the body and

Mind are one then love may be said to be at its peak,

And at its peak it was tonight.


She asked if I loved her and I replied 'Yes,' 'what

Part did I love best,' she chuckled, 'oh, I think

You know,' I teased, 'but if you wish I might revise,

And perhaps then you'll be as wise as I.'


Take me to your heart and let me linger for a while,

My fingers yearn to touch, to explore, to satisfy,

To trace your outline, trace your secrets and once

There, touch and then retract until invited back in a

Chorus of love swept along on a tide of fiery desire.


A desire to know every inch of you again, to renew

My addresses to every fibre of your being, to kiss

Your lips, drink of your love and feel the sweat of

Fulfilment running at speed down my brow. Could

There be a greater gift than the love of a woman

For a man and he for her, I think not.


Let me dwell in your arms forever, hold me

Close, hold me tight, perchance I might slip and fall

From heaven. My God the mirror did not lie, all that

Was in it is now in my arms, over me, under me, part

Of me. On angels wings we flew higherthat night than

I have ever flown before and finally, confirmation that

I was not dreaming; but that I fear must remain a

Secret between the mirror and I.


© Joseph G Dawson