Scherzo [poem]
three steps forward one step back
another two are sliding sideways
soon there’ll come the (fountain)
mountain moment when we both
discover that we’re right on track
but now we whirl around this room
where I’ve not been before
as tentatively we will spin
and waltz at least until the dawn
you feel my hand perched on your waist
pretending to be innocent
indelicacy’s shown in too much haste
so in politeness I hold back
for though I lead I wait for you
to catch me up so that together
we will leap in step enmeshed
in one another’s tango strut
your hand is resting on my arm
the fingers casually curled
but not in contact with my coat
as if a feigned indifference was
within this ballroom place required
though I must here and now confess
my eyes cast surreptitious glances
at the perfect skin which wrapped
itself around your throat
(and something wondersome
and long-forgotten
deep within my soul was fired)
me dressed in tails and tux
you in a flowing skirt of flax
our blindfolds still in place
I don’t know what attracts me more
your lithely legsome steps
(a blur of aphrodisiac)
or just the patent scent
(not from the perfume on your neck
but breathing outward through
your very clothes) a pheromonal
invitation to envisage you and
crazy me caught up in throes
of don’t know where this dance
will end or where our feet
(now guided by a hidden force)
will in their latent frenzy go
© Alan Morrison, 2015
The Naked Troubadour 