Stacy's Dance
By sweetbrother
I watched her dance on Beale Street, her long hair flipping in the breeze, slender limbs in constant motion as if worked by puppet strings in the hands of laughing gods I had seen her, just that day, reserved and cautious like a scholar but then night came bringing a crescent moon and Stacy's reckless passion I sat intoxicated by her supple movement but did I dare to tell her? No, my flirtation was brushed back with a casual flip of her haughty head I have seen her bundled like an Eskimo, the only hint of her dangerous grace a look of defiance in her smoldering eyes Beale Street reveals her secrets to be peeled back in the layers of her careful resolve and her nocturnal dance leaves me spinning into the depths of helpless passion Written October 29th, 2001 © on Oct 29 2001 10:07 AM PST 0 • 10
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"I watched her dance..."