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Hard-pushed the eyes that can ignore

Black court shoes and fine denier

Nylons at risk of a run but so what she's

Worth it. Stockings of the sheerest kind

Make up for the legs, 10 denier or less

Too delicious for words and doesn't she

Know it. Cool as you like and just a hint

Of a button hard pressed against the

Lining of a charcoal pencil skirt


He saw her as she entered the bar and

She saw him, fortune and fortuity hand

In hand. Chance in the hands of chance

And every chance their paths will cross

He knows and she knows precisely what

Comes next, a little promenading, a little

Flirting, just to make sure the eyes stay

Glued and all signs and signals are clear


As midnight approaches fingers that have

Never touched before reach out lingering

Over a glass, their eyes meet, the wine

Tips… Suddenly feminine caution gives

Way to urgent on-a-plate recklessness

As lovers-in-waiting can wait no longer

If love has a scent then the air is full of it

His woman, her man, seemingly chosen

At random yet made for each other before

They met. How might that be do you think

Is it chemistry, fortune or fate? Personally

I blame the court shoes, but you dear

Reader may suppose otherwise


©Joseph G Dawson


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