Formality

Purple,

Your dress sweeps against my pant leg,

Like a steady creek over rocks,

Circling in turn,

I take you around the room,

Until your hair loses its focus,

Until cares are flung off,

Like so many statically hung threads,

No matter what light,

Your eyes forever have that spark,

That would draw me across a desert,

And the look of you knowing it,

Until we're both past the brink,

And your curls slide through my fingers,

And the morning greets us,

With todays and yesterdays paper.