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The Angel At The Office (standard:poetry, 350 words)
Author: Michael H. SilvermanAdded: Dec 05 2000Views/Reads: 2505/4Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
She is like the movement of summer's heated breeze

The Angel At The Office. 

You don't know me, or perhaps you do, 

We met... several times, 

Every dreaming quality of love seemed 

to blaze its phoenix colors in the cloudless skies 

rising through a zenith of opalescent beauty 

in the fire and the essence of your eyes, 

your silken tresses... how they flashed 

in my thoughts like every luxurious 

movement of the summer's heated breeze 

all framing the angelic aptitude of 

your warmly glowing smile, 

My heart was caught upon you, it went 

beating its wings so softly, so trying 

to impress itself upon you, but I 

could not speak to you of this... 

You and I pass near within the place, 

You are everything that every heart desires, 

and how many times I passed so near 

and said a word to you, and saw the way 

your warmly breathing form made itself 

appear so full in the way you moved, 

or perhaps I just imagined the impassioned curves 

of your body beneath the phosphorescent lights 

of that place where we work, but then I long 

to feel the fiery heaven of your uncovered bosom 

pressed to me in gentle love, in warmly swaying motions 

to rhythm of our love, to fondly then caress 

the supple sculpture of your form, as an artist 

how I would delight in touching anything so well crafted 

but that this... that you.. are a warm and living 

embodiment of God's command performance... 

you are His sweetest creation, and here if I said your 

name in this romantic epistle, 

it might tremble in the heavens as if I spoke the name 

of the angel host itself, 

and then you would know..., know who I am and how I 

care for you, but dare I make such sounds...? 

Would I dare hope that you could feel these things 

for me as I so feel them deeply here for you? 

... to know the curve of your sensual mouth 

slipping gently into the heated frame of my lips 

for even a moment..., 

but perhaps I wish too many things of you. 

- Mike H. Silverman  (c)2000 


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