Flushed

Flushed

Oh’ yes indeed, I do yet still

vividly recall

how a single outstretched

palm might

   somehow, comfortably cup

both of her

   small but exquisite breasts ..

And which,

then might tremble beneath

the very

lightest of his most precise

and equally

determined touches like

a brace of

   beaten and likewise flushed

or startled,

painted doves, from the cover

provided by

densest heather and golden

gorse bushes ..

I also recall, how she turned

and smiled

   in my direction, before that is ..

She fell, or threw

herself upon an ancient tartan

coverlet that we

had covertly removed earlier

from her maiden

   aunts now famous, four poster ..