Perception Questions

 

The candle's light

Flickers softly

In a room of

Sensuous music

And the smells

Of pot.

 

Inhaling deep and long

She watches him

As time slows

His motions

And her thoughts

Like a foggy mist.

 

Words are stilled

By vibrant sounds

Of his touch.

The patterns of breathing

Speak of the passions

That design each moment.

 

But unspoken words

Interpreted by

Moist lips

And torrid skin

Can be clouded

By this fantasy.

 

Solemnly she wonders

If her passions

Taint her perception

Of his.

When he's gone

What is the reality?

 

Does he want to know

What she left unspoken?

Does it matter

The intensity of passion

Is a response to him

And not the moment?

 

 

B. Benjamin                                                                                         

BBP148