THE CANDLES ARE LIT
Bathed in your eyes by the fireplace,
My voice gone, body in rage
On my chest, lays your face
Wrapped in gown, deep red and baige.
Candlelight dinner, you're at my side
I've lost my appetite, too much to see
Nervousness, should not be my guide
Yet, I can only be me.
Invoked, shivers have spliced into
me,
A freedom rejected, enter a slave
Restless, my body summons a fee
My feelings, of what she gave.
Her lips seared the passion twice the
heat,
Fingers through her hair, sweat in flight
We embrace, speak of the strong, speak of the weak
I know not where my heart went that night
We step outside and whisper to the stars
She speaks of her many hopes and dreams
And the one before, who left some scars;
Loving her unselfishly, became my theme.
Holding hands under the table, watery eyes
Her sacred happiness flooded the air
No more fairy tales, I was the guy,
Her loneliness given unto me to bear.
If the fireplace was lit, I never knew
Between two beating hearts and burning desire
From the temperature, our bodies had no curfew;
A sensuous silence, is what I admire.
The jazz was playing, the candles
orchestrated the scene
As I kissed her ear, hands on the loose
A body in hot oils and legs of lean,
And me on fire, a body looking to roost.
---PB Jones