Under Your Arches

Your arches bewitch me
(I don’t see them much;
But the times that you’re shoeless,
They reach out and touch.)

Then I yearn for that arch
Betwixt waistline and hip;
When I bend down and view it
All my vertebrae slip.

But the arch of your brow
Sends a message of fear;
And your look says it archly:
‘Arch-enemy near.’

And I fear for my health
With the arch of your back;
As you rally your archers
For a bedroom attack.

But McDonalds’ are golden
And yours are magenta;
Underneath Roman arches
We’ll feast on polenta.

There’s an Archway in London –
Shall we go there right now ?
Just to say that we did it ?
Just to stand and say ‘Wow’ ?