He looked at me,
those bloodshot eyes.
'I love you' he mouthed.
I pushed him away, laughing before grabbing him back,
planting a kiss on his forehead.
We waltzed, leaves rustled with our movements.
The wind set the ambiance of our first dance of victory.
The crickets set the rhythm of our song we danced to.
His hands, oh those strong arms, wrapped my soft back.
Head against his strong chest,
the whisky, the cigarette and his sweat whisked together.
My favourite colonge.
I don't know what it was supposed to be because for sure, I never waltzed with anyone. I guess this poem was composed while I was dreaming away in the Victorian era, with all the lacy and elaborate dress that women wore at that time and how strong I want my man to be.
Mmmm!
