Unexpectedly, he made a
sober
success
with his
self-published book
of decorous
confessions.
It eschewed turmoil in
the
bedchamber
and coarse
descriptions
of disarranged
clothing,
but confided
reminiscences —
a bird
which he’d stolen from
a gold
cage;
a love message
intercepted;
a trespassing glance
glanced,
and the dénouement:
the day when he took
her hand
and,
with slow avidity,
stripped
her white kid glove
from
her warm, willing fingers
Decorous confessions,
Connie Bensley
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