Forty years all but one day
older than me.
Soft fat woman,
voice like honey.
Lying gowned in flowing purple
one liqueur chocolate
in smooth fingertips.
Musk and lavender wafting
from a cushiony bosom.
A yielding cheek for kisses.
Her garden had swings
and winding paths,
nooks for hide-and-seek
among rhododendrons.
Gave me '18 Poems
by Dylan Thomas'
one shared birthday –
1962, my 23rd. I have it still.
[Poem #67]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
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