This Guy, My Friend

He is enchanted by us
swishing skirts and dangling bracelets
delicate skin
wafting scents
Such creatures are we
bringing trances
by mere presence
wielding fabric and charm
purring softly
pursing lips
turning eyelashes to birds' wings
How can we have such a hold on him?
He can't tear his eyes away
Each of us, a fruit he'd like to try
but he can't reach our branches
can't catch our tresses
Our hair, like reigns, slips between his fingers,
and he's seated alone
feasting with his mind only.