Stages Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

The night played out in seven stages,
You sipping your wine,
Me biding my time
Until I could take you in my arms.

Your charms are the talk of the town, madam.
Every man in the room hopes to catch your glance
Without attracting the attention of your lover
Who hovers just close enough to protect his conquest.

Maybe that is part of the enticement:
To steal you away from the thief
Who in turn has eaten of a fruit
That was legally purchased by another.

And yet the tilt of your pretty chin
And the flash of that wicked grin
From behind the fan you flutter so effectively
Leads me to believe that I stand a chance.

The orchestra begins to play a waltz by Strauss.
As your jealous spouse watches from across the room
And your latest lover asks someone much younger to dance,
I stand and walk over to you and offer my hand.

As we step out on the floor, I hear a roar of whispers,
I see a sea of icy glares and I feel courageous.
Let the matrons gossip and the men fume.
I will display your grace and my valor to the entire group.

And once the men are besotted and the women beside themselves
With the vision you become when your cheeks are flushed
I will lead you out onto the balcony to see you in the moonlight
And perhaps compose a stanza or two to enchant you.

And if Fate conspires with me in my scheme,
We can sneak away to my private rooms
Where I can show you what else a poet can do
In the hours before the morning dove and your other lovers call.