Dear Raquel,

I made a little over 4.2k in the stock market this week, since last Pamper-Her-Friday. Reading markets like a madman. I intend to make, on average, even more over the course of the coming weeks of this new year. That’s a mere pittance relative to the business titans of America, I know. I’m not a business titan, however.

I’m a creative writer. A romantic creative writer to be specific.

But a woman respects a man of means.

You’ve met others with higher fortunes, surely. I’m willing to wager you haven’t met a creative scribe of my ilk. I’m certain of it.

But shame on me, Raquel.

I’ve inadvertently neglected my weekly Pamper-Her-Friday dedications—my goal was 500 PHF creatives by the end of 2020. I went astray somewhat . . . building a treasure chest. Sidetracked, I. For good reason.

Back on course, this writer.  You are an inspiration.

My inner poet you’ve resurrected—that photo. Thus:

 

 Might that have been posted exclusively for me?
 You’d never say, but those entrancing eyes, they tell,
 A hidden-away confession apprehensive to divulge
 My, are you a soothing revelation in words, Raquel
  
 “Real recognize real”: yeah, strange thing this internet
 Woman, you’ve entered my net---can you feel what I mean?
 A man of printed word too consumed to be distracted
 Not expecting cross-currents, cross-sentiments to convene
  
 Might it be better that I, that we leave it alone
 Let the Jeanie remain bottled, a sealed Pandora’s box,
 For the whisper of your voice an image it may provoke 
 The onset of a wanting fever or even a welcome pox
  
 On the brain and in the mind of this romantic scribe
 All in my creative process, woman, all over the page,
 This keypad now has a spirit all its own
 The publishing of that image only served to engage
  
 A disciplined writer . . . susceptible? Nah, it’s so rare
 That his gaze and his pen are lured by detour,
 Yet if there’s a sensual story developing, Raquel
 I saw it in your eyes, damn, are they so pure
  
 It’s as if you took the time to fulfill my request
 So lovely your silent language, much did it convey,
 The absence of spoken word is not absence of thought
 Have I entered your net on Pamper-Her-Friday? 

-Rg2

_________

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Pamper the woman . . . from afar. -Rg2

© 2021 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®