Ode to a Silken Ascent…

A column of light, a promise of grace,
Where thigh meets the curve in that delicate space.
The line of the hamstring, a taut, silken bow,
A pathway my fingertips long to know.

From the sharp, sweet angle of a flexed, pointed toe,
To the summit where soft, secret shadows can grow.
Each muscle a whisper, each tendon a string,
A silent and sensual song they can sing.

The sheen on your skin is a light, liquid dress,
Inviting a touch, a caress, and a yes.
They hold you, they carry you, stride into view,
And I am captured, entirely by you.