Dad's Physical Therapist - a poem

I was looking down your shirt today
And I spied the swell of your breast
I saw the bits of pink lacy edge
Which upon them your swells do rest

Your perfume caught my nose's pique
As your shirt flapped from standing
And leaned over again you did
The vision of your flesh demanding

I know I shouldn't peek like this
Or drink intoxicating scent
But if I didn't I know I'd miss
Or wonder where it went

We flirt lightly as you do your job
Stretching out the muscle
In my mind does briefly run
An image of you and I, a-tussle

I shake my head, and will me soft
For my attentions may be undue
I wish that I could ask you out
But I don't know that much of you.