What could I have wanted more
at that moment,
than a dance with you in my arms,
with your breath steaming up my cheek,
your fragrance doing things to my brain
the orange blossom does to the bee
the buzz in my head
the way you played along in harmony
our swords crossed...
we were both armoured
I perhaps a trifle less than you.
You hid your weapons
in the most unlikely places I presume,
for I had the usual spots covered
and yet you had me wounded;
for I think of you long after you're gone.
Was it your poise,
or the way you turned your head,
the smoothness of your neck,
the sureness of your shoulders,
the calmness in your eyes,
or was it sorrow, or desire?
maybe the way you wore your dress
I dont remember the colour -
blue, grey or black?
I might return, I might find out...
might - such a wretched word - heathen!
and well, if I dont,
I wish thee well
and may you be forever accompanied by your
elegance, your charisma, your charm - your armoury.
for somethings are better left unexplored -
more magestic in their mystery,
ravelled like the corners of the universe.
I will remember you like we remember
thaose gentle whiffs from our childhood
that leave a permanent mark on our psyche;
that aroma down that desolate street,
that song on the radio,
that comfort, that warmth,
That were to never become a part of reality;
forever surreal, forever gone,
like that moment when I met you...