AFTER THE DANCE IS OVER
By Robert W. Birch
We danced as lovers dance
to music only we had heard.
A hot beat to which we moved
in perfect time,
with perfect synch.
Unhurried though each driven on,
both knowing how the dance would end.
We shared the lead
as the tempo quickened.
You followed me,
I followed you,
each wanting that conclusion
as ageless passion demands its due.
Our cries loud as bodies yield,
sounds from deep within escaped
to alert close neighbors
to the simultaneous climax of our dance.
The music softened,
mellow in its final strains.
We curled together our contented bodies,
our cries at last subdued,
and only now a gentle purring.
In this quietness our muffled moans yell out
a thousand words of utter joy,
in celebration of our dance,
in recognition of our love.
We laughed and played a while
although our dance had ended.
Naked, you fed me grapes --
a piece of chocolate pressed to my lips,
combining with the sweetness of your essence
that still lingered in my mouth.
Bodies young, if but in our minds,
still needing gentle caring touch
still needing tender lasting love.
The beat has changed,
soft music now,
after the dance is over.