It was the way sun made love to your eyes
And how they asked mine to dance,
Mesmerising them,
Wooing them,
Courting them,
Laughing with them,
Holding them waltz-gently
Then rumba-teasing,
Tango-stirring,
Paso doble-wildly ardent,
Locking them in a momentary gaze
Of then and thereafter,
Telling them the love-story
We were yet to write
Of auld lang syne
And skies still to dawn
With your hand on mine on one feather-quill,
Leaving me breathless, smiling,
Melted at the dream-bliss reality
Of your breath in my face almost accidentally,
Weak-kneed
Needing kneading knowing
There was
No
Going back
To wander-ways apart
No matter what we do or say or where,
Macushla mine.
(31 December 2011)
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