Flushed

Oh’ yes indeed, I do yet still
vividly recall
how a single outstretched
palm might
somehow, comfortably cup
both of her
small but exquisite breasts ..
And which,
then might tremble beneath
the very
lightest of his most precise
and equally
determined touches like
a brace of
beaten and likewise flushed
or startled,
painted doves, from the cover
provided by
densest heather and golden
gorse bushes ..
I also recall, how she turned
and smiled
in my direction, before that is ..
She fell, or threw
herself upon an ancient tartan
coverlet that we
had covertly removed earlier
from her maiden
aunts now famous four poster ..