who is this ms. asked myself
as i watched her
in her black and white jacket
of flourishes and curves
as she leaned back against the wall
asking for another glass of wine,
As the music dipped softly sublime
of deeper intonations
her body, against the wall and
under the jacket
as if her soul
in the love making
And, in what I can only blame upon
my curious artist eye,
and a penchant for the edge,
I stepped closer for her eyes
were closed and mine,
mine were as open as I could see.
I moved closer til
a mischievous smile
alighted upon my eye
and I took a slight step back
lest I peck her
In that pause I looked.
I looked at finely etched lines
And deep dark curving lips
A broad nose
someone i’ve known my whole life
the oldest woman i’d met in years
laughing into the deepest memories
of both of our anguishes
and all of our fears.
It took my breath away for a moment
and i bowed deeply from within if not,
and just as seemingly
what worlds there are.
what worlds are there.
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