Unspoken Word
November 22, 2021
It's All Foreplay

It's all foreplay,
every single thing you do
or don't,
each glance,
each breath,
the way you turn your head
or walk across a room,
no one there to notice,
every flower planted,
or twirled,
every pirouette.
It's all foreplay,
all of it,
the way you pause,
and check the time,
the way you don't,
if the perfume
through your half-opened window
is for you,
the scent of skin,
the way you close your eyes,
the oh so
slow anticipation
that precedes everything,
incense lit,
thin wisps of smoke
disappearing into a night
no one ever wants to end,
the unbearable beauty of simply being alive,
the touch of a hand,
the thought of a rose,
the way you reach for something you don't really need,
heart opening
like the eyes of a child upon waking.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at November 22, 2021 07:52 AM

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“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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