The Evening, Sempiternal

by Steven J. Serafiani

She clutched her zin
much like the wine, I was held by elegance
every table carried craned heads to her red dress
each time she moved strands behind her ear
zen.

A cab to be hailed
as my hand lay perched on the autumn air
my eyes imbibed her aura; drunk fool I stand
she embellished the city and the wind howled for her
halved.

Returned to our abode
played Ellington spin in the living room
couches and lamps our hushed audience
head on shoulder; hand on waist rock late eve
apropos.

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