The Neighbor's Cat
Your apprehension
smoothed
by my hand
lingers
in the twist of your eye
how tight
before it slips?
With Regards
My cotillion
was an empty room.
I decline to dance at yours.
If the music is wasted
it was not your own.
By Terry Heath
Your apprehension
smoothed
by my hand
lingers
in the twist of your eye
how tight
before it slips?
My cotillion
was an empty room.
I decline to dance at yours.
If the music is wasted
it was not your own.