The Last Dance Poem by Mary Champion

The DJ plays nostalgic tunes -
the smoochy ones where someone croons
the words of sweet forbidden lust,
temptation taunts and yield we must.
Dim, dim the lights - and set us free
to sate this sensuality.
Close clinging bodies roaming hands,
lead to fevered one-night stands.
Short lived attachments, snuffed out fires
may end in tears and crushed desires.
But sometimes dreams of Babylon
will pluck the heartstrings decades on.