Excellent

Two young lovers flirt, tease and dissemble.

Amorous game-playing: a Sonnet.

by Terry Reilly

He wants me to believe he doesn't care,   he plays it cool and looks the other way.   But when he smells the perfume in my hair,   I'm sure that I can tempt him out to play.     He thinks by being languid I won't know   how much he yearns to kiss my suntanned cheek.   So I pretend it's time for me to go,   he pauses, turns and takes a stealthy peek.     He fears he may have overplayed his hand,   he takes my arm and looks me in the eye.   "Please stay," he pleads, "your loss I couldn't stand."   I smile as doubts resolve and qualms pass by.     His hard-to-get game sometimes is quite cute,   but passions flare when'eer he plays the brute!