Fleeting, Furtive, Flitting
Listen to poem:
Blink of glance, fleeting touch on fingers flit
furtive; just out of reach your desire pants,
wantonly wanting the touch of desire.
Warming to hot with anticipation,
willing the wait to gain, not wane in vain,
not early this time our coming be joined.
Copyright © John Anderson | Year Posted 2017
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