The wind whispers softly
across grey-tinged black hair,
as the sun dances across
a tanned figure lounging,
sunglasses perched
upon a romanesque nose.
You don't seem to notice
the attraction you are stirring;
the stirrings within,
those long legs stretching,
then crossing, the close lean-ins
baring nearly all.
Ahhhs are released
upon lipsticked lips
as you twist to one side -
abs rippling like drops of mercury
on a sizzlin' hot day -
thin bronze fingers reach for a glass.
Offerings come from every direction,
burgundy casting irises in sunlight,
a mint julip handed with delicate care,
margaritas of all flavors dance about you
but you accept only your glass:
a perfectly stirred martini.
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