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.


About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s