A late night poem in praise of women, love, life, lust and the dance of life. I was imagining two people dancing together in a close embrace like in a tango.

Votre implacable élégance.

Mon amor – mon amor - your soft contours attract
And in the dark separated under belly of existence
I fall for your tearful spell. I harken to the murmurs,
The pleading confirmations; the need to be fulfilled.
The deep aching need to live and to be loved.

How implacable is your elegance
How taut is your back, how swan long the neck.
How echoing the sweetest sighs.
The softest sweetest poetic sighs.

Ici ça va. Ici ça va. Je suis vivant. Ici c’est chaud.

Behind your knees the lightest of kisses lie
Placed as if by a gentle butterfly lighting on air.
Along your lissome legs the temperate caresses fly
And firmer grows ‘til firmness shows and I….

How implacable is your elegance
How strong is my embrace
How urgent and yet so fragile is your face
Hold me now in our embrace and
Together we shall dance, dance,
Together we shall forever dance.

Par: Phil Lowe

Never mix a big dressing gown sleeve with a pan of boiling hot butter on the stove. I did and spent the morning in A&E in the burns unit. I was making some cakes early on at home for my work buddies to eat in a team meeting and managed to catch my voluminous sleeve on the pan handle and the whole lot went down my leg. Thankfully most of it was soaked up by the fabric of the dressing gown but it still stings like fcuk. Not that a fashion brand stings but you get my drift.

Lots of sympathy my way please.

Love Phil xx