| Mmmm....that familiar aftertaste of peat and....soft scent of jasmine? I glance up, and there she is standing in her scuffed platform shoes. Alone on that dais, until the music starts and she takes flight. Gliding across the floor, lost in the salsa beat. Dark eyes flashing, and a sudden glimpse of thigh as her faded cotton skirt floats, mesmerizing, and I'm caught up for the moment in her freedom. Lost in her distant smile. How I envy her passion. And, staring at the muted lights from across the lonely street I absently trace the soft contours of your face on the glass. |