She was pretty much undressed
And big brazen tress
Thrust their leaves against the panes,
To snoop – so close, that close.

She sat in my big chair,
Half-naked now, and clasped her hands;
Her little feet – so fine, that fine –
All astir on the floor: pure pleasure.

A shaft of light, the colour
Of wax, played truant
On her smiling mouth (I watched)
And then on her breast – a midge on a rose.

I kissed her pretty ankles.
She gave a sudden laugh, pealing
And sweet, in bright trills.
A laugh like faceted glass.

The little feet took cover
In her skirts. ‘That’s far enough.’
– But even so, She’d let it go –
Her laughter made a poor reproach.

Her helpless eyes beat under my kisses
– A gentle application of the lips.
She threw back that hopeless head
Of hers: ‘Well, honestly, Monsieur!’

And then: ‘You really have a nerve…’
A kiss on her breast was how I handled
That. Which raised a laugh –
The kind that says, I’m on for it.

She was pretty much undressed
And big brazen trees
Thrust their leaves against the panes,
Snooping – so close, that close.

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