Poetry From the Library of the Red Rose - Teaching

Teaching

by Frank Lambert

Your finger
traced a line
along my neck.


I opened my eyes,
found you’d brought us
into the mountains.


What are you doing? I asked,
smiling at the intense look
fixed upon your face.


You ignored me,
closed my eyes with your finger
and continued to stroke.


Over and again you touched me this way
while gently blowing
along the path your fingertip took.


After a while, all I could feel
was the air against my skin
and the tingle running down my spine.


Opening my eyes I saw you had left,
having finished showing the wind
how to caress me like you do.