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He gives me poetry.
His small precious gifts
a slow seduction
of word and image.

I find myself unable
to resist these caresses,
soft kisses of enchantment
creating crevices in my shell.

He brings me torn
pieces of paper,
in which he has penned
“I can’t keep your eyes
out of my memory”
with many exclamations.

This is a secret courtship
built on a shared passion
for linguistic leaps
and word twisting decadence.

as we slowly give way
to more sensory pleasures,
like the liquid jolt
of chocolate eyes melting
into each other.

© 2006  Deborah Vos