Lean back in a beach basket,
take a sip of champagne sea,
foam tickling,
rolls of white waves join hands
before bowing to brown sugar sands,
mounded curtseys of a Victorian strand
topped with corseted seaweed ribbons,
the elegant ease,
of each brackish tide on my side,
light touch,
hesitant hops,
the subtlety of a silent sea.
As her partners,
we must wait patiently.
A morning belle,
the sea is shy.
She bats her waves
like flirting eyes.
White lashes curl
gently against tan-skinned sand,
soft as inner thighs.
A sea-foam glint to emerald eyes
the only sensation,
a gentle swish,
as her beauty sinks in
for one last glide
in the Baltic Waltz.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Sensational. A joy of images!! (New collective noun just invented).
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Thank you, Worms. I quite like the title of word inventor. Will keep at it.
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Lovely imagery. Read like I was there in one of the baskets..
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Not too much of a stretch of the imagination, I imagine.
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Images to chill for! 👍🙂
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Thank you, Hobbo. It was almost relaxing a d an easy place to be inspired.
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You’re welcome as always.🙂
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Been there, and you just took me back. ❤️
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Oh wonderful. Thanks, Misky. This poem takes me back as well as I was there last August.
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😁
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ah now what is “Victorian” is you’re in the Baltic?
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if
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Just needed a parasol to take a promenade .- step back in time and I’d go there again in a heartbeat .
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The kind of poetry I only wish I could write.
Beautiful my friend 🖤🖤
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Such kindness; your poetry is sharp, dagger-like. I love your flow as well.
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Thank you 🖤🖤
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