~“May I Have The Next…”~
The floor is fixed and footed
and the stains saturate and soil;
young toes and tappers
combine and cautiously coil.
I search for her singing lips—
as moist as April's dew—
Yet I only see blurred faces,
spinning reds, yellows, and blues.
However, her jewels are joyously sought
so chiseled and shined.
Will she suddenly slide my way
and miraculously become mine?
My bottoms break the barrier
and I effortlessly move closer.
I reach out gingerly
but my arms come nowhere near her.
I missed feeling her experience—
her hands, her eyes, her lips—
My heart suddenly floods,
as she stops her swaying hips.
The light acts like a vice
and the floor fades away.
She turns and floats from me
as my love-logged feet stay.
Her eyes will be seen again,
but her feet might never chase.
However, every time I see her,
my heart will brush her beautiful face.
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