Foxy Posted April 6, 2005 Report Share Posted April 6, 2005 Alone she stands on a rocky hillside, looking out over the Tuscanesque valley, wind twisted limbs and gnarled roots exposed clenching Life in her bare hands. Despair and joy dance the minuet in her head. Breaths slide in and out, As if they had nothing better to do than save her life. She wishes upon a passing meteor, a fallen angel burning across the azure, as it disappears into the afterglow of a sunset the color of a conch shell?s lips and the smell of warm, fresh sleep. In that instant his gentle touch grazes her temple, breaking the trance. He twirls a lock of hair from her forehead. Alone together she knows he listens even when she says nothing. The dancers stop and nod her way. She smiles and they change partners. Despair never could tango, While joy will always dance to any old thing. He kisses her hands, coaxing her to relax her grip. His gaze is heated silk, his kisses buttered rum. She lets go and knows he will always dance with her. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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