Tork's Vignette

by
Ron Crepeau
Copyright 2006

I walk into my studio.
Music is peacefully playing.
A Monkees' song -
    "That Was Then,
     This Is Now."
 

She stands at the center window -
    Absorbed;
    Listening to the music;
    Looking out at the clouds
    with their peach hues
    painted by the setting sun.
 

Stop and just look at her.
Snug jeans low cut.
Snug sleeveless blouse
    that leaves bare 
    her cream colored midriff.
Still so slim.
Hips that barely betray
     the two children she's borne.
Light brown hair
    hangs to her shoulders.
I can't see her face.
I don't need to.
Its beauty is etched in my mind.
 

I approach her.
She's softly humming
    along with the music.
Bend slightly and rest
 my lips lightly
  on her bare right shoulder.
Let them languish there
as my tongue
creeps out
   to taste her flesh.
 

Her humming halts.
 It is replaced 
   by a purring of pleasure.
 

Remove my lips.

Step back.

She turns to me.
 

Look into her eyes -
   those enchanting eyes.
There's a question there.
Or is it a request?

Step close to her.
Stop.
Pause within
 her continuing
  down-soft gaze.
Move my face forward -
slowly.
Place my lips lightly
on hers.
Those lips receive mine -
  readily reshaping
as those eyes
slowly shut.
Soon, I too
only see darkness.

 

Cling together
   floating in a sea
   of feelings -
   warm and relaxing;
   soothing to all the senses.
Drift with those feelings -
    wanting them never to end -
   until...
 

I open my eyes
 alone in my studio
with the sound
 of a Monkees' song
 now ended.