By terry
Date: 25 September 2000
Waiting at the Old Town Cafe
Waiting at the Old Town Cafe
I deliberately chose this seat,
The one in the shadows,
Nearly forgotten, in the back.
Maitre’d studying me curiously as he pocketed his due
You see I wanted, well … needed, to watch you walk in.
To steal a moment of rapture looking at you,
While you nervously scan the dim ambience
For the daffodils in my hands.
The gentle curve of your hips swishing deliciously…
Together.
The half smile born of nervousness that gently purses your ruby lips,
That your tongue insists on wetting again and again.
And the blazing shine of those hazel eyes.
Mercurial by nature, dangerous by the love they reveal,
When I step close enough to fall right into.
And your hair…
Soft as spun silk, made to run my fingers thru with wild abandon.
The tactile, tingling temptation hard to resist long,
So I sit.
And watch you enter over and over in mind’s eye,
Every step an exquisite exercise in waiting.
Reveling in every ghostly replay.
But Waiting…
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner