It was the night the sevenses
came out to play.
Your scent, heavy on the senses,
was there of course;
in the bustle of aftershaven,
fresh-showered sweat.
Head held askance in raven
black, each hair perfect,
as you contemplated the camp
remarks of companions
passed to and fro in the damp
night air for effect –
Like a verbal tennis match
gaily contested by
a friendly crowd of catch-
if-catch-can young men.
All so excited without reason,
in excessively bright
garb befitting the season
before the cold set in. |
Submission Name: Translucence
