Wouldn’t want it be less
than this endless ocean -
my passion rides infinite
wave crests, there’s an
agony of tension masked in
somatic motion of each roller’s
breadth & depth seducing
my gaze, and in that
gentle span of rippled
redolence enmeshed in
your panoply of movement as
you gracefully bathe
sigh if you will - shake your
damp locks and claim there’s
nothing dilettante in an
innocence of towelling -
you’ve showered this way
always - undeniably in an
ingenuousness of naivety -
& less obsequious intent
but I cannot look away from
such magnificent beneficence -
cannot express this luxury
any less
© 28 October 2016, I. D. Carswell
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