On that fine, warm late December afternoon
The old wooden house off City Park
Behind the wrought iron door
Held a group of strangers calling in unison
Offering their greetings for the New Year.
Once we overcame that hall full of Sicards
In your grandparent's foyer
We strolled together, arm in arm,
Through the rain-washed streets
In the French Quarter,
My first time, your former hometown,
And exchanged brief glances at each other
Through the smoky expectations from eight years before
When you turned and spoke to my waiting heart
On the stage in the Dunwoody High School cafeteria
Blowing fresh colors through my brain,
And catching my heart up and sending me spinning
Into shy conversations in the hallways
Nighttime drives past your house
And unexpected envelopes from Lexington, Virginia
To California.
Until the red and black sent me winging
Toward Louisiana
And an evening within the old, veneered walls
Of the bar at the Hotel Ponchartrain
And eight brief days on the windy streets of Atlanta
Where in an uncomfortable plywood booth
In the Moonshadow Saloon,
Listening to a band
Whose name I won't remember
You snuggled into my shoulder
And the smell of your perfume,
The nearness of you,
And the rightness of the moment rose up
And the world crashed down
And I offered a soft kiss on your dark hair
And you turned the yearning in your eyes to me
And our mouths sought each other,
Soft, soft lips meeting, finally, finally, finally.
And now we await the twentyfifth anniversary
Of that sweet, sweet night in the Garden District,
Caught in the cold and wet and rain,
When our worlds were altered
From their individual paths
And the lines broke their calling
And bearings trans-sected
In a star-lit dance of union
In the eternal calculus of our lives together.
Friday, December 28, 2007
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