An Imagined Scene

Your hand is on my thigh,
stroking the fabric to
stroke the skin down underneath;
strumming a song on a fretless board.

Higher and higher, where will
it go? Circling and navigating
to a source undefined.

Climbing the mountain to
the knee top
subtly evading the others’ eyes
with well-crafted choreographed
messages spelt out along
the contour of my thighs.

Clever lad, you,
well done for what you know.
What you’re committing to me, any
others need not ever know.

In my mind
because I don’t know where you are.

I part your lips,
kissing your ears
touching all parts of your atmosphere.
Only in my mind, though,
because I don’t know where you are.

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