Sand
A pomegranate margarita
had stained your lips ruby.
They glistened - cool and wet
like jewels.
I wanted to kiss you.
You sat there
seemingly unaware
of how I felt -
Of how at any moment
I would leap from my stool
unable to contain myself.
The air was warm and damp
and the coconut trees
smelled sweet.
The night was sugar,
and the moon
wine.
Posted by Amanda at March 19, 2003 11:23 PM
