1942. It was a hot summers night in 1942. I was out, the curtain went up, that was when my eyes first fell in love with you. Standing there in that pretty black dress, Panache was up there with you. Your two black alluring feathered fans, they knew exactly what to do. The spot light turned to diamonds, As you started to dance, the colours of the rainbow, cascaded on your jewellery in something later classed, As a fine romance. The way the music played that night, I heard the saxophone say, the drum and basss marriage had been in the Sistine Chapel The trumpet was there that day. Then silence, like a still frame, you stood, you made us wait, your black vintage cocktail dress, That sure knew its fait, as it graced your body, falling to the floor, there stood an angel never seen before. Heaven closed its doors that night, as I watched an Angel Pray, just to be able, to be up on stage, and dance your glamorous way. The dance took on new meaning, all the talk of the town, the grandest of invites, your black bow was never found. Like a Carousel spinning, your beauty had no where to hide. A long lost passion had woken and finally come alive. The nights Magic, had come to steal the day. Steve Biddle
Posted on: Wed, 05 Mar 2014 03:35:04 +0000
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