An Ode.
I envy the cloth, the elastic, the waist tie. The cloth can press itself against the firm flesh taking on its definition.
It can hold like a gentle hand gathering up all the fleshy parts and lifting them in a new shape referred to as a bunch, basket & admired by many.
Dry it feels good. You can see the reaction in the face of those that wear it and those others that watch. Like a second skin it appears, the choice of color sometimes blends with the wearer's skin, other times matching the eye color.
Wet it clings like a jealous lover, wanting to be closer then covering, aching to be part of the surface rather then hiding it. When thinner and a color selected correctly it becomes nearly transparent revealing the color of the surface be it naturally pink or tanned by the sun when not covered in some secret location.
Wet it holds well and lets admirers see what their imaginations defined.
Sometimes it isn't wanted as the wearer moves the waist lower to attract the sun to previously hidden portions of the surface. Or when the wearer moved from the watery surroundings it has slipped so low that onlookers can be delighted by the heretofore hidden body parts and hairy surroundings.
It speaks not but seems to value its role in the life of the wearer. It attracts others wishing they could have it in their own lives. It looks forlorn when discarded for any reason be it days end or some act by the wearer it cannot be a part of.
But it glows with admiration when others watch or are close enough to feel its texture and cup it's gathered male body.
And it angers when pressed beneath other fabrics hiding its existence by an unwilling or modest wearer.
It shines when boldly displayed as the wearer walks the sandy location knowing that eyes are admiring the shape, style and definition it offers.
It makes a wearer feel free, sexy and younger. It makes the admirers wishful to be closer. It encourages the bashful to experience what the wearer is feeling. And it declares the freedom for all to enjoy its benefits.
Even when sitting on a special beach while the wearer lays, walks, runs or swims without, it sees the memory of it on the bared skin, defining where it has been while the sun shone and where it will be again.
Like a lover, it is needed often and when ignore is remembered as valuable and available.
But the moment it really feels what it is, is when the wearer, displayed in the raw lifts it from the drawer and slides it up legs to the ultimate position where it becomes one with the skin it knows, relishes and wants to be.
Ode to a Speedo, lucky apparel, admired adornment and in much demand around the globe.