I saw this girl on a train. I couldn’t see anything of her, shrouded as she was in her traditional garb. But her hands caught my attention…they were so enticing. This then, is my ode to a stranger’s sensuality.
To touch and feel
Not for me, however.
Sheathed and protected
Demure, ladylike, unobtrusive
One mightn’t even suspect
The same sensuality of me
As of anyone
Except an occasional idle observer who notices
One finger caressing the strap, lovingly, longingly almost
And the other hand curved smoothly over a bright pink bag