Anticipation

It wasn’t long now.

In just a few minutes,
He knew he would see her…
And his heart was pounding.

All week he had waited for this night,
It was all he could do to stay focused
On his work throughout the week…
And he only did so…
Barely.

How can one human being,
Be so attractive?

How can she be so captivating,

Able,
In every way,
To consume every moment
Of his life?

But she did.

So this night,
He waited,
Seated in his favorite restaurant,
White, pressed tablecloth under
His hands.

The deep ruby of the Pinot Noir
In his glass,
Cast a rouge glow
On that tablecloth,
As if foreshadowing the blush
On his face,
When she arrived at his side.

He glanced at his watch,
Counting each second,
Pulse increasing,
As the minutes decreased
To her arrival.

And then…
He saw her.

It was as if his whole world stopped.

She, scanning the guests,
Saw him…
And smiled.

His heart melted.

She glided to him
As if a breeze on a summer morning,
Her eyes never leaving his.

Moving with purpose,
And grace,
She flowed to him,
Dress sashaying…

Drop earrings in unison…

Waves of her espresso mane,
Swaying as well…

All the result of her moving,
To him.

Everything around him now,
Blurred…
Except her beautiful face,
And smile..
Nearing.

He rose to her,
Knowing that in this moment…
Now…

His time with her
Was soon,

And his world would continue
To tease him
With what the future held,
With her.

Still…

Anticipating.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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