Proscenium

Almost ready,
she curls her hair in the mirror;
enchanting beauty centre stage
as I wait with her bag in the hall.
Standing in her doorway,
our evening yet to commence,
I see, though this proscenium arch,
my love, my main event.

Backlight

Adorned by the light of a dying day,
she glows in orange and peach.
A halo blooms on her silhouette,
she catches the sun’s final breaths.

Daylight frames her face
like a portrait on a mantle;
a place of honour in my mind,
crowned with glory of afternoon sky.

Dancing by the light of a basement bar,
she glows in red, green and blue.
A band performs their final notes,
we laugh our way down Tydeman Road.

My memories are a montage
and I watch her like a motion picture;
Illuminated by passing lights,
a star amid a starless night.

On My Way

I wait to catch my breath…
one hour, two trains, three flights of stairs
and you: a mystery wrapped in vintage clothes,
a body to uncover, a mind to discover;
you meet me at the door.

Close the space between us…
a bar, a couch, a single bed,
and me: drawn to you, a work of art.
Here we lie, our selves unveiled;
let me in and show me more.