Remember the time you came over the hillside for dancing.
Fields of lavender and poppies waving fragrant colors,
In a fitting metaphor for how your hair fell along
Your sleek, strong shoulders onto ripe breasts.
We sat upon the wall eating lemon ice, the cold crunch
Turning your lips a bit red, and I reached to hold your hand.
All evening the big moon rose, quietly, like our hearts.
Boldly, like our heartbeats, in a shimmering icy blue.
In small sentences you spoke about the dresses swirling round.
There were many colors of light cotton in the summer heat.
I finally pulled you out and we danced closely and slower,
The jasmine blooms filling your hair scented with summer.
Looking back, I longed to tell you how you seemed so large,
So magnificent, as the blue moon which had risen and hung,
With no more care than to watch the slow dance of lovers
Circling a sandy corn field, wanting so much more of life.