The art of slow

You are master of the inadvertant touch
Of seemingly unintended placement
Of slow building, slow cooking, slow burning
Sensuality
You are the Raj of the casual connection
Your silk skinned tenderness tossed rakishly my way
Then lingering
The flow you build
To wild rivers of intensity
Directed by a single well timed brush of fingertip
Or wrist
Your long, long limbs abundant, willowy and ever entwining
The catch of breath
An invitation
To continue
Amiable, “accidental”, conjunctures
And rivulets to rivers,
Wilder flooding lakes
Swelling into ocean thrashing indigo depth

I love
       your
  so
     slow
         fingers
The skirting
And the bridging
The sweeping arcs 
                                      that 
                                      contemplate 
                                                           their 
                                                                 own 
                                                                    point 
                                                                               
                                                                            of

                                                                    ……..

                                                           contact
                    (in breathless anticipation)
                           …….Yes, slowly
And……… yes, deftly
The subtle pressing urgency that holds itself at bay
Knowing it will meet a brighter bloom, with some delay
A deeper memory
A molten lava canyon river flowing orange bright
(where some would settle still for being washed up on some rocks!)
You
You sail your obsidian
Beyond the heated mounds of restless budding lust
Take your time to crest the reaches of a worthy man
To meet, in time, the now smouldering eyes
Of a worthy woman

In this slow intensity
Where no-one else could breathe
My gentle scientist, you breathe fire into me