Her mouth retreats behind a steaming cup;
our first impassioned kiss is washed away
by tea. Her savor shows; she glances up,
our bliss now intermingled with Earl Grey.
Her lips escape the smooth ceramic touch
of that which holds a warm familiar taste.
She smiles at me. I think she smiles too much
with just her mouth, with lips my lips have traced
too soon. The waitress breaks my fading trance.
I order eggs; she orders eggs as well.
We smile like some obligatory dance,
but now her eyes have fixed the broken spell.
They flash with passion’s promises; they shine
in this cafe, forever hers and mine.