She's never going to know I watch, I make sure I'm discreet.
She comes into my work space every day at one o'clock.
My senses quicken when I hear the "click click" of her feet.
Black pencil skirt enfolds her thighs, ensures her sexy walk.
Her frame is slim and elegant, her manner is refined.
Swinging, swaying raven hair binds me in a trance.
Her oval eyes are cobalt blue, with azure underlined,
those moist and fleshy crimson lips just make my heartbeat dance.
And when she nears I smell the musky perfume in her hair.
Sometimes I hear her gentle laugh, voice like a tinkling bell.
I wish that I could say "hello", if only I would dare.
Except, for her I don't exist. I guess that's life, oh, well.
Each day I enter Section 3, I hope to see him there.
He seems the strong and silent type, the kind of man I seek.
I feign to have no interest, keep my nose up in the air,
but when I pass his station try to steal a tiny peek.
Broad shoulders and a well-trimmed beard, he really is a hunk.
His suntanned face so handsome sports a dimple in each jaw.
And when I sniff his rich cologne my head spins like a drunk.
One day I nearly said "hello"; the word stuck in my craw.
A man so fit, with piercing eyes, and locks with golden waves,
will never want for lovers, so I shouldn't waste my time.
He'll never know how very much my throbbing life force craves,
to take him in my arms and love him, that would be sublime!
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a passionate love poem, any style, any length. Try to make us feel the heat and passion of your lovers without being vulgar or blatant. It has to be clean enough so you don't need to put any warnings on your poem. |
Author Notes
Just one word, from either, would turn hopeless fantasy into ecstatic reality. I guess faint heart never won fair lady/hunky gent!
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