Lay lady lay…
Lay lady lay
I remember you. Your eyes of hazel green and the softness of your voice made me stop and worship the joy of living in those soft and tender eyes.
I remember the Germany Summer day. You danced by the small lake for me in the white Summer dress. The sun reflection, showed me perfect curves, long legs and tempting body. I told you. You are my goddess and muse for my words. You are my Dante’s dream and wish.
You laughed at my words and you told me. “A Dante’s love is for the finalist. He who gave-up before seeking victory. Better to be a Hemingway love. Drink, live and die in the glory of love unknown. Seek hidden motels and ride deep into tempting places where foolish people can run wild and free.”
We went to your small apartment. We drank the sweet red wine, listen to Leonard Cohen and we danced alone with the shadows of the night. I whispered to you, Lay lady lay. Allow my hands, lips and body to find safety in soft skin and your willing body.
I remember you. You became my Dante’s Beatrice. You taught me how to live and you taught me how to die. I made the foolish wish many times to the night stars. Take me where love was sweet and kind whispers of love was alive. Lay lady lay upon sweet memories. I looked to the moon and the stars. I whispered to them. Thank you for the trip to heaven and to hell. I would do again.