Eloquence

Eloquence

Her eloquence is silent and so bold:
Staring right at you with her voiceless quips:
She'll tug the folds of her towel; she is sold
On the idea that you adore her lips
When they're revealed like this and not adorned
With any coloured gloss, whose shine might build
A barrier, hiding the way they're formed;
She would prevent your passion being killed,
Or looking lank, like hair after a bath:
Washed, perfumed and cleansed of all remorse;
She stands there so beguiling: see the craft
That leaves you not a choice, except recourse
To stratagems, the delight that cements
The boldness in her silence: eloquence.