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Walking Away From Me
He walks by
and I trail him
with my eyes;
A glance at the shoulders-
his cat-like,
panther like stance.
And when he moves
he flows.
he flows.
My god
he flows across the room.
His waist is
my next eye-roving
stopping point;
but there
is just the tease;
because my real destination
are the haunches
his eye-pleasing behind.
Two mounds
melon-sized
barely contained
in those jeans,
I can see them
pout
right and left
just so slightly
moving
when he is moving
away from me.
I can't
every time
not think
of them.
I still thrill at my husbands
going away from me look;
that delicious look
from behind.
poem
by
Lonnie Hicks
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