Office Romance Discovered Poem by Phil Lowe

He sees her daily across the room;
Her distant words sound like golden drops of joy;
Her accent soft as Parisian silk and her skin unknown
Except in the depths of his imagination.
She laughs and smiles and her glasses touch softly
The delicate bridge of her nose;
She bends to pick up a pen and those tight jeans
Caress the curves of her bottom;
His inner lusts curl his lips like Elvis
And all sensation hits his pelvis.
He scratches at the desktop in a need to express
How he could kiss her to excess.
The poem now has some small hint of rhyme;
They could be together given time.
She stands behind him and asks what he is writing;
He is speechless and hits the delet button.