Romance on a Serviette

There was a smoky drifter
a form casually content.
His confident step
kept
the beat to a different drum.
The club was candle lit
shadowed memories
All who saw him enter
brightened with his smile.

The base line highlighted
a sweet sparkle of song,
in red.
A silhouette embraced,
by ruby dreams
and starlight diamond whispers.
Full apple blossom lips,
with a slight devious curl,
she glances away
with the flutter of
indifference.
He was intrigued,
by his beautiful butterfly.
He focussed on his catch.

She is slender down
to the tip of her cigarette.
She is obliged
by his subtle command of fingertips,
relaying softly on the tip of passion.
His glass half massed
on a very early Sunday morning
to the masses.
A careless sum of money
and fast tracks of time.
The audience acquires drifting smiles
from the angel in red.
They spoke of some things unsaid...
Intriguing;
Yes,
but not for the one living in the house of one.
Breathless in commas or prose.
She is listless to anyone who would oppose.
Her lips red like a pomegranate's sunrise,
simmering with her hips swayed silhouette
Stirring eyes as she moved piano keys
Sailing satin ships off to sea
making a grown mans heart beat,
and bleed.

Meanwhile,
obscured in a corner,
observing it all was a writer
An author captures words in her net
and organizes them on serviettes.