slow dancing

so i take your hand and you

lead me down the garden path

of yesterday's moonlight.

in the gossamer night, our shadow selves moving

together, slowly, sinuously,

we are parentheses around a phrase

of Shos, a phrase of clever text,

a phrase of whispered things on the cel

but we move with a purpose

we didn't know until now

in a slow urgency to make it last

until time is no longer an issue

until three-quarter measures dissolve into

one long beautiful night of sighing