Parsing the air into discrete moments
As she spoke, simultaneously with word,
And a flourish of her fingers embellishing
And with equal purpose,
The lacquered richness of her nail polish,
Accentuated each gesture,
As if 10 batons were leaping in
My eyes instinctively were drawn
To those beautiful, and delicate instruments,
Each perfectly plucking my heart-strings,
Composing a melody foreseen
Only by her.
What I did not,
And could not know,
Was the end of her musical phrase.
As if rising with the note, her hand extended to me,
Her fingers reaching, barely touching my cheek.
Just a simple caress,
But as her finger tips drew down and across my cheek,
She orchestrated more melody for my heart,
Than I could ever know.
Next Anatomy Lesson – The Small of Her Back
© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.