Attentions Poem by Lonnie Hicks

Attentions



The truth is
she liked the attention
as much as she liked me;
and I
by that year

had acquired the skills
every man must have
which begins with liking to give
attention

to women who often respond to it
who feel it is something

she as a woman deserves
not false flattery mind you
but appreciation of who
she is or was.

But understanding this
need
for sincere attention
is of a particular and specific
sort
a kind of giving and receiving
involving understanding
that it is inbred in the species
necessary
and indeed sufficient
to explain much
of human behavior.

A man willing to give this gift
honestly and openly
gives flowers
to the woman
willing to receive it-

seeing her
grasp
her birthright
her sense of her own

womanhood
present already to sure
without
male
attention
but undoubtedly
enhanced
by maleness
and of course vice versa is also true.

We as a species
are built to give and receive
these signals
as surely as a male peacock
has developed over the eons
a huge feather display to attract
and give his attentions to the females.

Attraction begins with these gestures
attentions
which most often
the clueless

failing to understand this

will most often become mate-less too.

Successful soft encounters
subtle looks, and glances, smells and
body language exchanges, shy and buoyant smiles
and later
animated conversations,

soul searching eyes
breasts gently heaving
pattering hearts

are all part
of most important ritual
human beings possess.
Being desired, looked at,
even lusted after
is empowering for both sexes
is desired by both sexes
the singles, the marrieds
the lonely, the confident
virtually everyone.

'So' she said
'since you understand all this

what do you propose we do
here?
Yes, I like attention
I like your attentions to me now
right now and here.'

I looked at her and said

'I feel the urge to kiss your hand
if you are willing to offer it
to let you feel
how soft my mouth is.'

She smiled
slowing lifting her hand
realizing that in her entire
life
she had never had
her hand kissed.

My mouth floated to it
as it rose
as mouth and hand met

breast height;
my eyes riveted hers
she took me in
with hers
she feeling
that soft mouth
covering her slightly
folded
fingers;

a mouth

which was a gentle
visitor
not intrusive

but rather
inviting

as
she kept
her hand there
opening to my soft lips plying


an entry point
I felt
to her deeper self
now being freely given
her responding
until at long last
that soft moistness

withdrew
leaving her
feeling bereft
wanting its swift
return.

She opened lidded eyes
seeing mine grow in size
apparently too
even with this small separation
left both she and I
trembling
each
departing
to small talk
others
in the room;
each enshrouded

in this a Lingering Unforgettable:
Swain New
and a
Spring Flower
Blooming
and she in later weeks
came to give me
a similar gift
I am man
for the first
time
had my hand kissed.




To be continued

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 01 March 2013

spring flower blooming. fine. thanks.

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