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I was just over at The happy Quitter visiting with Bridget. I had to really chuckle over her post today, Candles in the Shoebox, talking about how women and men see romantic dinners in a “different light!” 😀 Please stop by and have a read. Her experience with planning a romantic dinner has no doubt been played out by countless couples through the ages. But she’s such a story teller!

I was chuckling partly because I’ve had my OWN experiences with that scenario. In fact, I had written a poem about it…

 

Tryst

In the soft, warm light,
purple hydrangeas and
delicate-stemmed
white baby’s breath
fill a well-used,
well-loved creamery pitcher
decorated somewhere in Portugal
with wild, blue rose vines.

Tall lilac candles
held intimately in
golden candlesticks
and topped with fluted
ivory candle shades
cast an ethereal glow below
onto the roses
spilling across
the lavender and green
linen tablecloth
and into the fronds
of the potted acacia palm
in the corner.

Ponderous gilt-framed grapes
hang on the wall above the table,
while french lace curtains
fluttering gracefully
at the open window
tease the fragile candle flames.

My senses take it all in,
this lovely setting made for
dreamy conversation and
unhurried, deliberate dining;
the perfect place for eyes to meet
reflecting candle glow
and sharing hopes
of what the night yet may bring.

A place for lovers
to whisper endearments
in hushed tones
that bind the scene together
like a coupling of the soul.

My heart sighs with great longing.
The hour is late and
dinner nearly ready to be served.
Any moment now
he will be here.

* * * * *

With misty eyes
I flip the light switch
on the wall,
cross to the table and
blow out the candles.

What a shame he insists
on being able to see
what he eats.
What a waste of what
could have been magic.

 

Reposted from 3/30/15.

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