No promises, no commitments
Just hopes of keeping up with
the everchanging destinations
Reconstituted with every glance around
You glanced away
Don't call it a spark or a flicker
Simply something gorgeous to look at
Your dimples are rhetorical
to the visionaries of the world
Sipping sweet tea, minus me
Barriers between our hands
and the rest of our bodies
Nothing I know better
No time other than this second
that flashes before our eyes
with a dozen hidden messages
that are meant to leisurely dissect
and make sense if we let it
Let poetry drape itself over
your stomach and legs.
~Tina Meeks
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