Another Port, Another Dancer

I awaken, in the early morning
The sun, shining into your sleeping face
The smell, of your lovely perfumed scent

Untangling from your clinging arms
And your bleached strawberry blonde hair
Looking close at your fine mustache

My elbow, knocks a champagne glass
The sound, of the cheap flute breaking
Stirs your sweet, heartshaped, pale behind

I smile, as the door slowly clicks
Creeping down the hall, like a nun
Off for coffee and cigarettes

Another port, another dancer

© Copyrights G. Jones 2012

Author's Note: The Memory Photographs Series