Seductive antic in her eyes,
Portentous as impassioned night,
Her wet-parted lips disguise,
Desire manifesting delight.
Her voice imbued with stirring joy,
Tremulous as the falling rain,
Now flirtatious, now acting coy,
Each chalice fills with song again.
Shaken as a well mixed drink,
She moves in a rhythmic vortice,
Like a sassy wedge of lime or pink
Cherries on a clink of ice.
And brushes off his losing thought,
As one smoothes unruly strands,
Intoxicated, never overwrought!
Mere words written on the sands.