Twilight Song

In twilight's silences, she waltzes into the room
In tiptoe, almost
Shall we step out, there where the sky zooms past?
And so we hold hands, move out of the brilliance
And into the folds of sensuous grey

You are beautiful, I whisper into her fragrance
As the shades of a dying day play with the salt
And pepper of her hair.
She stares, mischief playing in those monsoon eyes,
And laughs as she places a hennaed foot on the table

Civilisations rush by, footfalls of the long gone are
Heard in the loud silences of lost time. She speaks
Of Anna Akhmatova and Rumi. What if we had never met?
At what crossroads of the past did we not meet?
We raise the questions and don't ask for answers

Touch me here, she points to the back of her neck.
I do better, letting the lips do what the hands should.
Dusk closes around us, ecstasy sweeps into her closed eyes,
As my explorer lips find an inn in the nape of her neck

On the table, the hennaed foot misses brushing against
The glasses of iced coffee. Beethoven plays in the wind