“Flirt”

A crowded room

            conversations spilling out

                        along with cleavage

Eyes meet

            smoldering glances from afar

                        lashes lowered as blush spreads

Tongue tickles upturned lips

            in sensuous play

                        bottom lip captured in a pout

Maneuver clockwise

            lean closer

                        breath a whispered touch

Here and gone

            like smoke

                        before the fire

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Originally, I "flirted" with an idea for a poem that expressed how the writing process sometimes teases me. Obviously, the piece morphed into something different, yet the metaphor still exists.