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Submitted on
November 25, 2012
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Soft and brown, her hair waved at me
with a whisper and a giggle,
her smile a hint of more
and a promise of adventure.

Her flirting glances weren't needy,
or forward in an unseemly way,
just perfect and lovely
in a most adorable fashion.

The evening carried on
as evenings do,
and our glances back and forth
told stories.

We only spoke that once,
as we passed in the hall,
but her voice and mine
wanted more.

After midnight when she left,
I followed her outside,
not wanting to be lost
without her touch or smile.

She was gone too quick,
I'd missed her, and my chance,
but once I came back in,
I found she'd not yet left.

Another look, another grin,
and her hair, oh that hair,
it wanted to be stroked
if time and place would give.

We found a place, a space,
and spoke at last for long,
minutes into hours,
as guests all took their leave.

And as the time ticked on,
and as the party died,
the time to act had come,
the perfect way to close.

We leaned in near and kissed,
a gentle, perfect bond,
our lips were long-lost friends,
met with happy touch.

She squeezed my knee,
I smelled her hair,
we tasted sweetness there,
I met my lovely girl.
"Lovely girl" was what I started with. Like most ideas, it just arrived from nowhere. I let the story, the poem, just flow. It came out like this in about 10-15 minutes' time. When I finished, I re-read it 3 or 4 times, making a few small edits before deciding it was done.

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