You look out at me as though
You were spying behind dark curtains;
Black hair combed out in luxury
And eyes confident and certain.
And there is mischief in those eyes
As if you guessed my only thoughts -
Knowing they are all about you
And my fear that all might come to nought.
It is as if you seek to reassure me
With a pose that prints a flirt;
As if you had issued an invitation,
Underwritten to imply no hurt.
Your smile adds to your claims
With lips that exist to be kissed;
And dimples of deep temptation -
Too deep to be dismissed.
And your hands are so sleek -
The instruments of a musician,
Who makes the ivory chant and speak
In riffs and trills of sweet precision.
I see the tilt of your lovely head,
And I quake at something about your stance
That signals not quite a coquette's call,
But perhaps your faith in happenstance.