He takes my heart
and doesn't know he has,
with the aperitif
the olive sinks slowly
'Red or white', he asks
I say I have no preference
Champagne would be nicer
but I'm too afraid to say.
I skirt the entrée around my plate
while he dances lettuce leaves;
I hear violins, sweet pungent tunes
and hide my eyes behind
lemon scented candlelight.
When he smiles, I see into his soul
rich creamy camembert
spread in bite size morsels.
It's cold outside, he hands me my coat
does he linger, just a second
or does sea breeze cool an ardour?
'That was nice; I've always liked this place'
I swallow air, and watch sea lights.
Perhaps he feels it too
the subtle strains of beating veins
I don't feel the cold as it shivers up my spine.
I wish this night would never end
I'm afraid that if he takes me home
will I ever find my heart again?
Poetry by Elle
Read 361 times
Written on 2013-03-29 at 16:29
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