by L. Dinkens Stewart

Created on: August 03, 2008

TO LOVE IN SECRET

"Dottie was my Labrador,"
He called over his shoulder
Before spinning fully
To reveal one final, coy grin.
How perfectly chiseled he appeared
In that moment,
As if a replica of clay
From an artist mold.
His eyes catch a glint of light
In the palms of their blues,
And he turns away again
Walking his sly stride,
His hands in his pockets
With nothing to hide.
Gallivanting down the stairs,
He bounds out of sight.
My lips spill silent kisses and envious smiles.
I ached for him even then.

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