To Her Lair

So close to me she sits yet I am blind, the thoughts she seeks to plant within my mind. Naivete prevents their cognisance, as immaturity meets happenstance. Much older she - though hesitant to move, engages guile with swift effect to prove, that taking prey is still within her grasp; throws back her auburn locks which draws a gasp. The drumbeat of my heart pounds in my ears as adolescent yearnings stoke my fears; transfixed, my body trembles as in flame, untutored in the rules of this new game. My eyes fixed straight and true at nought ahead, determined not to show what may be read. A sudden shift in my periphery now juxtaposed us in this mystery. As closer now our bodies are aligned, her heat begins to dull my hurried mind. Confused my arms fold tightly to my chest, convincing me that I would fail the test. Assured that somehow I’d escaped the net, a silent breath unlocked my lungs and yet - more hunger as my heart had ever known, her fingers curling now around my own. At once, commingling our symmetry, my vision now explored infinity; as one by one our senses coalesced, held firm my arm she lay across her breast. My fingers - warm, between her hand and heart, begin to tear my innocence apart; now energised, the ancient urges rise, intent on satisfaction ‘ere it dies. We tear ourselves apart - but holding fast, I’m led into her playground lair at last; what wonders would this secret solace bring? She needed me to push her on the swing. August 15th 2015 Bill Lindsay 'Any Poem That Received Honorable Mention'