Friday, November 12, 2010

Honeyed Tea and George

We talked, there sat at night. You rocked
with tea in hand, clever mind dissecting
my words, his eyes and hair, curled wet.
I grazed over your form.

And what is our purpose, you asked,
shirt off your shoulder, showing clavicle
showing shadow, probing thoughts stick in hand,
your feet probing shag carpet, searching.

_______
An attempt at a bit of loose iambic.

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