There was a sad woman
who had an alluring smile,
tall and graceful with a sway to her walk.
She had chocolate eyes that could melt your soul.
So beautiful and yet so sad.
To look at her was to love her just a little
and then after a touch and a smile you love her more.
You gravitate towards her like a moth to a flame.
To bask in her warmth and kindness.
You look in her her eyes and share a joke,
and think maybe she likes you too,
and that thought keeps you going all the next day.
Until you meet again.
You talk a little and smile a little and even occassionally laugh.
You try to be as entertaining as possible,
and she seems to respond;
the conversation flows and then takes on a life of its own,
then with a balletic sweep you're soaring.
Again and again you meet and talk,
the feeling of closeness gets stronger.
When you're apart all you can think about is her face and those eyes.
You sit at home near the phone hoping she'll call;
and she does, and a whole gamut of feelings rush,
when you first hear her voice,
but you don't have time to be self indulgent and bask in these feelings.
What you want to do is talk,
to hear about how she's going,
what's turning in her world.
She tells you these things,
and the intimacy is beautiful,
like the woman herself.
You both share a liking for drink,
and when deep in her gaze,
you place your hand apon hers.
She resists your overtures,
saying that it is just the drink,
but you press her,
begging for a kiss,
and she relents;
and you lips meet for the first time;
in the first of many kisses.