She examines each fold in the glass
Each hue, each blush, each strand of sleek hair
The curves that have tightened
The lines that have become leaner
The breasts that lift slightly higher
And she smiles
Breathing in the faint hint of feminine scent
Sliding each small foot into the shoes that scream sensuality
And whisper sex.
And she takes her small handbag on the way out the door
Knowing where she will arrive.
In minutes she is seated exactly where the light
Has the most subtle cast
A glass of white wine ordered
Ankles crossed and swept to the side
The demure, serene expression.
And just as she had planned
He is there.
She doesn’t have to turn her head
Or make a sound
Or call attention
Her body will do that
The understated sensuality
The illusion of nubility
He will turn his head
And he will notice
And he will stand.
She circles a small finger around the edge of the wine glass absently
And stifles the smallest of smiles
As she observes the tops of his shoes
Beside her table.
He offers his hand
And raises an eyebrow in question
And for just a moment
She forgets the unexplainable niggling of pain
And his reaction to her
Before the change in her reflection.
And despite his energy,
She sticks to the plan,
Smiles,
Sips the wine,
And softly says,
“No thank you, Sir.”
And then she walks away.
[…] The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you. And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you. […]
I love that song……
This poem/writing was just a little fantasy that a part of me would enjoy living out someday, though it will likely never happen