Friday, April 24, 2009

After all, this dance,
And all the sparkle, and
Archness and wit and

This is a warm cloak
Of a different kind, to be
Sure, and yet, it is
As comforting as a hug.

This is the village I need
To inhabit. Even
When the cold night
Presses, sometimes,
A blanket is enough.

I know this addiction cycles through
My blood, and all too soon I will want
Flowers, music, the heat of your blood.
But for now, a clink of glasses suffices.

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