It Is In Provence That We Are Dancing Poem by Gert Strydom

It is in Provence that we are dancing,
when I drink the first whiskey,
while the lights of the Riviera glitters,
a star jumps in the sky;
with you I take a wild chance.

When you smile draws me and teases,
I see your face in my glass
while more liquor is splashing in
and your laughter with both joy and sadness,
suddenly gives life to my heart.

When you follow me
you invite me to your apartment,
where I count off money for the taxi,
you embrace me
with your arms around my neck,
when we stand in the foyer.

A young couple walks past
when you look mischievously lovely,
look with bright blue eyes at me,
before you take my hand
and we walk up the stairway
while your hips sway inviting.

When we reach your apartment,
your lips sudden find mine,
just there I know no more pain,
outside there are lights flowering,
above us stars that glitter
and your body is sweet and bitter.