On reflection, I know you
knew I watched you dress,
imagining the soft
hush of stocking up leg, you
fussing unnecessarily to allow your
breasts to sway that
little bit longer before the
dress like a white waterfall, the
sudden height of heels, a
flick of your hair, the
distant slam of a door.
On reflection, I noted the
lack of other underwear,
wondered who you might meet,
whether you might be
smiling when, tomorrow, you
draw your curtains.
(Image used by kind permission of
Holden-and-Camille.com to whom I am most grateful and you should go visit. The
poem is my imagination and is not a reflection of their lifestyle)
