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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
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