Your Valentine

     "Coming late,
     I was only pardoned for your kind appeal-
     With no other lady would I've shared
     that wedding invitation!"
 
You laugh, burst from giggles,
a chirp among singing turtledoves
above suited tables; laid in an amethyst dress
which your date gifted.
 
After his green waltz,
he serves some cake.
 
 
Fingers are kissed in his rubbing fist
under a groomed moon, letting your tiptoe
tastes cliffs of his calves; beams of the table;
bedrock thighs; sculpted, polished curiosity.
 
His hand lifts your entire leg,
folds easy knees-
     You kick from his marbled quiver,
that great longbow drawing forth Cupid's shaft,
six slabs, bold shoulders, an upright back;
and shoot his hundred cherry arrows.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written Feb 16
 
1  2