That sharp intake of breath
heightening the senses.

It was her eyes
across the shining floor,
wide beyond reason,
deep and sensuous as
bright pools bathed
by harvest moon.

That upbeat gasp
leading to revelation.

How could he resist
the acres of floor,
desire’s surge
overcoming inhibition?
How did he float
so easily – so far?

That leading moment
knowing all is lost.

A step for life
from arrogant adolescence
into the symphony
of togetherness;
into the eye of the storm.

That first inflexion
of the baton

the composer contrived
before the first heartbeat,
knowing the inevitable ending:
but nothing is complete.
The eyes are nearer now
the sigh less sweet.


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