Wasn’t erotically persuaded into making waves
float you my way - I said I’d dine in the dell of it,
was true enough - you were there too - whether
a sensualist or an epicure isn’t in dispute & you
need not query that supposition - but then its a
‘woman’s way’ isn’t it, to bathe for an age in the
moment of glory, softly inhaling pathways back
where congruity begins its polarity of oneness
I agree and share those feelings too but where
you smile discretely musing in silence, with me
this is a magnificently sensual symphony - & it
demands honesty in my orchestration, so I am,
while harmonising with sybaritic resonance, an
evocation of your magnanimous infusion
© 8 November 2015, I. D. Carswell
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