"Twilight Games"
by Andrea (Vicommi@aol.com)

***

The room is one of close angles and closer tables,
Clad in golden yellow and conversation
And accessorized in laughter.
Warm beams from the hanging bowl-lamps
Bounce off the salt shakers, tableware,
And the frames of her glasses,
And glints off the rings on our joined hands.

She smiles at me around her drink,
And I grin so widely my face begins to ache.
She laughs softly, sets her glass down,
And lays her freed hand over our pair.
My skin tingles under her fingers,
The thrill dancing all the way up to my elbow.
I think my shiver is visible:
      Her grin takes on a wicked twist.
I won't let her revel in her victory, though.
Tugging gently, I pull her close.
She tastes of coffee and strawberries.
I feel her shiver under my lips,
And I smile triumphantly against hers.