Posted: May 25, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

In its natural state

a swath of well coiffed fabric

many textures

soft, delicate, sheer, velvet

to the touch

by itself when caressed

a shape shifter allows hands to manipulate

when done

we might decide to return garments

with caution

to their original order

In another state

draped upon her skin

the shape shifter draws attention

no more is the fabric alone

now life inside begins to fashion

a certain draw

a lovely curve of abandon

causes such stirring only to the naked eye

wanting the energy

wishing only to now truly manipulate

such seductive shadows

an urgency of passion

that allows each touch, each slide

to arouse the senses on either side.

Ah, the night arrives

she closes out the til

looks upon the rack

and see them all lined up waiting at will

imagines that very night

when that certain wardrobe

will capture his eye

and cause a need to manipulate

the shadows that caress her skin,

or it might be her, instead.

  1. wbdeejay says:

    Ahhh, beautifully written indeed. The story of the woman and the dress, or maybe the dress and the woman!


  2. Sundresses definitely are sexy (as other dresses), but your poem rightly poses the thought that the women make the dress, to “to arouse the senses on either side.”


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