In the velvet darkness, rolls a wave of lush violins;
I close my eyes in surrender and smooth anticipation.
Sensual strings sweep indigo jewels beneath my lids,
brushing my senses; my mind open to enchanting experience.
From forests of rosined bows comes—the voice,
smooth, slightly nuanced, instantly recognized—Nancy.
Sweet honey-brown with a platinum sweep,
soft bare shoulders and shocking-blue sheath,
entice in the full glow of a single spotlight. Full glossed lips form each word into a song
sung sensually, sexually, but for my ears only.
Memories flood my solitary audience
with sultry embraces still fresh on my skin.
Las Vegas, long ago, idol worship at stage side.
A glint, just a twinkle, speaks unspoken words,
massaging the message intended but for two.
The voice brings me back without interrupting,
dreams come true, leaving a woman's musk,
a feint bit of humanity enchanting my nostrils.
Bonnie's favor remains steadfast graciously
bowing to Nancy in blue singing herself to me
on a gentle rush of soothing symphonic splendor.
Relaxed and accepting, I bathe in the easy stream of tones,
rhythms and nuances, letting the voice wash over me.
Finally, honey-brown dissipates in the azure flow,
leaving only the slow fade of subtle strings
and the tingling burn of a young man's memory.
