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MasterWordSmith
09-02-2007, 09:00 AM
9:45pm France

This time, down by the lake we dance
"The Samba".
Everyone in the lobby raises an eyebrow.

I become increasingly more uncomfortable
in her arms.

Her dress flows slightly at the fringes,
shifting deep down, dragging on the floor
like dead lotus petals.

With an extra layer of cotton pink across
her shoulder, she takes my hand and spins.

I examine the frames of light reflecting in
from the lighting. Like mathematics, linguistics
spoken from different tongues,
the frames refuse to parallel.

Isis
09-03-2007, 04:49 AM
Damn. Love it, MWS! Like the middle stanza the most, with the imagery on the dress. Good stuff :)