A skipping swallow you, of fleeting grace.

[Silas Thorne]

A skipping swallow, you of fleeting grace.
The merest echo of your lips, your face,
could still my breath.

Your taut and long black silken hair,
dark rope, that leaves me hanging here.

The necklace that falls down before your neck,
could break my own, in hoping for a peek.

You lap a flit of flame, I'm kindle caught,
thrown hard and buckling on the limbs of thought.

[Buh4Bee]

A tasteful and lustful poem. Enjoyed.

[Silas Thorne]

Thanks for reading and commenting, and glad to hear you enjoyed this poem.

[Jerrybaldy]

Enjoyed it too. Particularly like S2. You are suddenly prolific and that is welcome.

[Silas Thorne]

Thanks Jerry. I was, and still am, most pleased with S2 and S4. I'm crafting something out right now.

[symphony]

I like the loss of rhythm when your breath is stilled. Lovely.

[Silas Thorne]

Thanks a lot for your feedback symphony. Yes, that was quite deliberate.

[Hawkman]

please, please, please move that comma in L1. It should come after swallow. Apart from that I rather like it.

Live and be well - H

[Silas Thorne]

Oh. I see now, Hawkman. Thanks!