teamy summer. Cotton dresses.

Ice-cream days, pristine. Blue.

Rival to the sun is she, basking in the heat.

Her skin, perfection, glistens, soft and brown.

Sparkle! Tiny droplet, moving. Down her graceful arm, at speed.

Descending solo, course uncharted. Gravity the guidance. Free.

Rolling past her elbow, bending.

Underneath, suspended, poised…

Held, as is my breath, expectant…

Rich, with curiosity.

Release. At last! Sweet freedom, falling.

Poetry, in motion, slow.

Down, through summer's thick air, flying.

To her sculptured thigh below and pause…

Trepidatious now, perhaps in awe, the hero, cautious, creeps…

Toward the tantalising hint of silky paradise, concealed.

Shielded by the shadow, 'neath the micro dress of summer,

now a beacon of enchantment to both my captured eyes.

Absently, she wipes… Disdainful of it's plight.

Intruder vanquished. Brushed aside. Ambition unfulfilled…

Will this same fate befall my quest, no less perilous, begun?

Her legs part, just slightly, to allow the cooling breeze.

Cotton flutters gently, a flag to mystery. Delicious mystery.

Glancing up, I see she knows. Our eyes, electric, meet…

Eventually, she smiles… We simmer in the heat

of summer.

© Copyright. Peter Healy. All rights reserved. No part of this written work may be reproduced by any means; including but not limited to mechanical, photographic, digital, Internet or other electronic process; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or otherwise be copied for public or private use; without the expressed written permission of Peter Healy.