The mystery and connected clues
spread out here before us,
too cautious, and you’re sure to miss out.
With summer now almost gone
come count these last hours down.
On tiptoes looking up, always looking up
from where bellies undulate
hands sway on curves and hips
the heavy air insists remove clothes.
There on the side of the budding wave
she holds her practiced position well,
from dreamt up memories
every step, every move
these autumn days are now set in stone.
Crawl forward to get attention
the edge begs to look and see
sliding deep inside her
slow and cautious
the temptation teases.
A hooked foot guides the movement
firm at first, almost as if, she is the first.
Eyes are buried up into eyes
on a makeshift bed of pillows
there’s always something
when hips move in unison.
From behind, that foot hooks again,
setting the temperature mood.
The upturned points are all sensitive
words flick and gently bite
a squeeze a second too long
the floor falls from underfoot
the tepid wave finally crashes,
and with seconds still left,
sensitive eyes look up and lock
before the end of summer
is completely awash and gone.