A black ribbon held back your russet hair. 
You wore a pale denim blouse with navy blue buttons my fingers ached to undo, 
a flowered peasant skirt that floated in your passing, 
and tan flats over otherwise bare feet. 

I have no idea what I was wearing. 


And oh how we danced that evening under the silver lights of the parking lot that was too hard for the softness of our growing love
and in the yellow light of the hotel room that was too soft as we strolled and cha-cha-ed and rocked and two-stepped
and through the not so darkness of our bed that was at last just right. 


Each step an offering
in a different dance
as we followed the other
while leading the way. 


And in the morning, I hope we’ll dance across the dawn. 
For now, you sleep in my arms, your breath teasing my neck
while the heat of you presses where your leg crosses mine.