A Glorious Alchemy
Dewey decimals assemble
our common presence.
Your horticulture hands hide
that landscaping manual's lengthy title,
but this is my isle
and I've held that identical gardening guide
like a potted plant.
Your sensuous musk spirals through
the once stale library air,
as cedarwood, cinnamon, and clove
collectively caress my nose.
So close, we coincide.
If I were to peruse my pastime picks,
our bodies would overlap,
but I keep a refrained, respectable,
reachable distance.
A confident curiosity
draws my gourmet gaze your way,
and your eyes likewise look away
from their once preoccupied page pondering.
An electrifying glance expands
beyond our common hobby.
Your earthen eyes instantly grip mine
like roots to soot.
Our hushed "hi"s
collide simultaneously.
I bite my winter mint incensed lips
with an instinctual hint of interest,
then a giggly schoolgirl smile follows.
I glance down to disregard
that massive moment,
motioning my fantasy fingers toward
a farther away publication,
diligently dragging my eyes to
a divergent direction,
suddenly spinning my slim figure toward
the chemical science section.
Like a centrifugal force,
your tall stature turns toward mine.
Your strong hands of provision
skim the selection, then
deliberately, teasingly reach
for the same spine.
Our hands collide
in a glorious alchemy.
3-27-19
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