As you freshen up,I wait, gaze upontwo proper ladies;ruffled white blossoms,flushed with salty air,stare, hungry robins.Gull’s cry breaks the spell;guilt flops and lodges. “Where for tea?” you ask.Startled, I turn to meetyour sparkling blue eyes.“Snuggle first, perhaps?”I wink, grasp your hand.Love, afternoon’s task,writhes us like otters;honeymoon’s postures. Octameter form Reading a little about the painting,…