Poetry

Cairo, 1939

As jaunty notes surround us,
I take your hand with quiet audacity.
We turn and you smile, fading, serious now.
The curves of your face
Glow with sensuality,
And I imagine other glows.
Closed eyes caressing warm skin,
Breathing intoxication wet on neck.
You’re mine.

Fingertips trail
Down her throat, caressing its hollow base.
He touches his lips to it,
Taste salt of hot skin
warmed by blazing Egyptian sun and
His heat.
He lowers ever further,
Bringing up hands to the light, savouring, tasting sweetness of her.
Eyes sigh closed,
And quiet ecstasy flourishes inside.

Lucy Amos