The Cali Garmo

is Writing

The Blissful Night

By thecaligarmo , Published on Thu 13 January 2005
Category: Poem

The blissful night shines through the dark,
A new door opens, the red sea parts,
The entrance clear, but clearly bare,
The only sound was never there,
The step inside gave chills down bones,
It opened paths before unknown,
The night, the peak, was now right there,
The depth inside still very bare,
The clock then strikes, it spoke its words,
The time has come, for flocks of birds,
The dance begins, at first unclear,
Where it would end, was yet not near.
The dance grew fast, the moment hot,
Steps now in sync, the beats of heart.
Then the approach, cunning and fair,
at first was doubt, Then that was bare.
The kiss, pleasant, the touching, sweet,
For hands and lips, had the same beat.
The movement now, to better place,
was exciting, new, and still in pace.
Red couch in front, its going smooth,
Sitting now down, hands in a groove,
Again begins the heat of night,
Hearts in a beat, perfect delight,
Kissing with grace, but rough at times,
No words spoken, perfect like mimes.
Kissing subsides, holding takes place,
cuddling, nosing, in perfect pace.
The room dwindles, The dancing gone,
The moonlight shines, on this new love,
The air is sweet, the loud sounds gone,
and in the moves, nothing was wrong.
The touching was depleted soon,
a crash of sound, now filled the room.
Grabbing a drink, tossing it back,
Going to seats, nothing there lacks.
As sounds in back, fade to a norm,
The talk in crowd, soon is in form.
The talking goes till early day,
For hours it seems, it makes headway,
But soon the day comes to a close,
change in location is disclosed.
A place for food comes into sight,
The place looks good, The feelings bright,
But here one part breaks into two,
Feelings dwindle, The fingers blue.
Laughter erupts from a whole’s part,
The part then leaves, back to the start.
Food is brought from different lands,
The French is what comes to the hand.
The meal is sweet, The talk engrossed,
And yet the time flies like a ghost,
Then time stops clear and makes the night,
Turn dark as day, no longer bright,
The whole breaks, for the second time,
And now the waiting process begins.