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Lovers-in-waiting 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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