He traces her eyes......softly,
His fingertips flutter over her skin
almost but not quite lighting upon her flesh
.......The patina of glistening sweat
breaking out as He nears her frame.....
tense is she?
and then almost shivering as her senses
drink in the nearness of Him
....He leans down  
His breath flows like a gentle caress
against her cheeks
His hands hold her face
in Their complete encompass
.....what then , does she ken ,
those yearnings of ages coalescing
into a immured sword ready
to be sheathed in its scabbard ,
long past and unfulfilled
Who takes and who gives
.....that fluttering form
                         that palpitating flesh....
His to own ,
            His to claim
                        or hers to keep
....when does that bell ring,
He wonders.....but did she?

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