Evian Power

Each face I gaze upon is a world of discovery.
My eyes glide across each curve and recess, tone and texture.
From the cliff of the chin to the edge of speech, soft flesh would move slowly,
sweetly to a bridge towering above it.

This would bring me to a glazed, smooth, caring, brow.
Stray fibres would then draw me to the hair, waves, rapids
of streaming hazel, blonde, and glistening black.
Gushing from the scalp they would form eddies at the base of the neck,
then bank against their shoulders.

Coloured fabric of a meadowy green draped on down from their shoulders
over mountainous breasts, thighs, and knees protecting the rich fruitful valleys
amidst their peaks.

amidst their peaks.

My eyes would hike across the alpine beauty of each amazonian
silhouetted against a mythical sky of dreamy blue.

This would calm the devil in me with Evian power and symmetry.

Then a pencil in my imagination would sketch out immortal images of....,
A beauty no greater or less than any or all,
though as unique as the sky or the leaves of fall.

©WRM