‘Perhaps, perhaps my love’
Perhaps, perhaps my love
The night is long and the drink is cheap.
The music is good and the design of the night had brought her to me.
Words are shared in the dancing club. Stories are told.
She and I were willing to dance on open floor and allow the madness of song and dance
to make us believe in the ambrosia of love and hope.
She was a Texas beauty. Her eyes filled with the fire of dangerous need and want. I told her. The rainbow of hope and need is more alive when the music is good and the drink is strong. You are a soldier’s dream. Long legs, silk dress and the slow dance holding the embrace till the song is done.
She smiled and brought me closer. The feel of soft and tender body pressing closely and you whispered. The night is young and the songs are good. Perhaps, perhaps my love. We can drift into better places if you can make me laugh and feel safe.
We danced and drank till the midnight hour and you gave me shadow kisses in the corner of the dark dance hall. Gentle kisses became more sweet and tempting. I told you. Love is a wild ride and dance. We fall in and out of love often. Tonight we interlaced our two lives and you have become a sweet dream for me. I like when we are allowed to tread softly into love without great demand. Slow and easy lead to an ending of splendor and the inferno of wild and true love.
She laughed at my words and told me. Dear Poet, your words are sweet and tempting. We have danced often in the Belton, Texas dance hall. I saw in her eyes. You adored me and we loved similar place, strong drink and dance. You watch my face when I speak. You paid attention to my words. You allowed me to open the doors to the possibility of need. I love you dear Poet. You make me want to enter the madness and bliss of the long night in your embrace.
The Texas September nights are still very warm. People drink and danced till the closing hours in the taverns and the bars. Two people wandered to her safe apartment. Drank coffee and discussed life and dreams. Beautiful Texas woman wrapped her legs over me and we held embrace. Her kisses tasted of long Island ice tea and her tire eyes filled with gentle passion and hope.
I told her. Perhaps, perhaps my love. Exposed love is alive love.