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Rated: · Poetry · Fashion · #1139144
How a dress moves
I wanted desperately to take your waist in my
Hands, to feel the silk that was ironed there,
I needed to know if I would feel the cold of that
Fabric, or the warmth that fell from off your body.
Watching as you walked,
Watching while you danced.
The silk on your form,
How it held even the air in suspense
Of your touch.
You threw away your smile to every
Man, whose hand came down light
As feathers on your fabric.
Their hands and arms twirled you.
And that cloth, that was wrapped
In only you,
Went round
The room
In half
Circles.


© Copyright 2006 Ian Sea (colecee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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