Remember the time you came from over the hillside for dancing.
Fields of lavender and poppies waving fragrant colors,
In a fitting metaphor for the way your hair fell along
Sleek, strong shoulders onto those ripe breasts.
We sat along the wall eating lemonade ice, the cold crunch
Turning your lips a bit red, and I reached to hold your hand.
All evening the big moon rose, quiet like our hearts;
Bold, like our heartbeats – rose in a shimmering ice-blue.
In small sentences you spoke about dresses and sandals.
There were many colors, all of light cotton in the summer heat.
I finally pulled you out and we danced close and slow,
Jasmine blooms filling your hair, and I cried as we parted.
Looking back, I longed to tell you how you seemed so large,
Magnificent, as the blue moon had risen and hung there,
With no more care than to watch a slow dance of lovers
Circling the sandy field, wanting so much more of life.