Shadow Dance by Anatole Serret

Again a twenty hour drive ahead
A bunk that’s filled with artificial air
A bag of bones that needs a night alone
At far too late a time to be awake

But the time, the night, the day after next
feel otherwise, my mind is elsewhere now

Dancing with the shadow you enlighten
Shaking hands with lust and luck and laughter
Hanging from the sweet tooth of your simper
Swimming in the spit you gift your fingers
Drowning in the sorrow of your motion
Tearful at the strength of such emotion

Inhaling as you do between your lines
With you I fell in love a hundred times