He Was Good With His HandsA Poem by Kathrine RethornA man I could get along with.. if ya know what I mean.There is nothing more I’ve wanted then to know a man who knew just how to use his hand. He kept my attention as if he had control over my gaze and trained it to focus solely on him. He had the hands of Apollo, I swear, so elegant and long yet firm and undeniably strong. My heart was a drum inside my chest beating with a rhythm of pure ecstasy. With every movement I could hear a sigh escape me feel the tremor of excitement. His shuffling was my pleasure. Overhand, Riffel, Hindu each one done with ease. He could spread them evenly in one big arch then flip them to their face. My heart dropped when the barista interrupted him. Of course, he did not disappoint, With a quick flick of his wrist a card flew high landing for the whole Cafe to see. "Ace of spades?" My inspiration drawled. A smooth smirk graced his face. The ignorant, who knew nothing of the art showed no appreciation. He sat down the Mocha Latte and sharply turned away. Unaffected. An easy shrug and my magician picked up the Ace then with a quick cut and bridge, a glance my way a wink that picked me up and carried me over. He asked, "Do you believe in magic?" Did I ever.
© 2017 Kathrine RethornReviews
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StatsAuthorKathrine RethornILAboutMy name is Kathrine Rethorn. Obviously, I am a writer. Stories and poems. I focus on realistic horror, romance, occasional erotica and mystery. Themes are usually dark or serious. I have some hobbie.. more..Writing
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