Mirrors of the Soul

Like the reflection
of the sun off a mirror
are his eyes when he smiles.


Dancing twinkles fly
as blue birds, darting, chasing
quick as his inner spirit.


Unshakeable steel
when serious or angry,
solid as his fortitude.


As morning blue skies,
whispy as clouds in light breeze
soul soft as his compassion.


Complicated always,
never easy to read;
his eyes - his sensuous soul.

Silver Fox

He is a silver fox
appraising ice blue eyes.
Silently slinking, stalking,
standing and waiting.


The prey is unaware
of his stealthy presence
as she calmly continues 
writing, creating.


Smoothly he approaches,
silent as the moonlight's
shadows within which he moves.
He starts debating:


When should he start his play?
Not wanting to scare her
the sly old fox steps in front
before stating:


"Would you care for some wine?
The Beaujolais is fine."
His prey smiles and then stands up, 
he is baiting.


She waits for his approach
as he slips in beside,
she turns to face him fully,
options weighing.


She reaches up to kiss
him and run her fingers 
through his hair and stroke his ears;
love awaiting.

Hints of Things To Come

All reason is ripped aside

as primitive passion

erupts into her stream

of consciousness, evacuating

all sensible thought;

desire overcomes inhibition.