How is it that my fingers still recall
Her slender waist move warmly in her dress,
Each softly sculptured buttock’s rise and fall
And, though we never touched, can still caress
That gentle inwards arch, that ruthless curve
Sweet intimate relation x to y?
I watched, bewitched, her sensuous sway and swerve
The lissome sweep and swell down flank to thigh,
Sleekly down and in out over round
Deep into where my dreams and senses fuse,
As guilelessly she rides the tides of sound,
From comely shapes the next, flowing, ensues
Unconscious, naïve, inhibition free,
The truth I cherish is…she danced for me.
Steve Lang
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/how-is-it-that-my-fingers-still-recall/
