MITCHEL MONTAGNA
His Invitation

A ravishing cheek, on a May afternoon
Was in some bedecked hall, I believe
Dust glowed in her eyes like crescents of moon,
as did traces too deep to retrieve
She offered a sweet take that fed on his heart
It was hers from the moment she spoke
Her manner was earnest, her words gently smart
When her shy smile wavered, he broke
The floor was immense, so many were there
Was that a small scar on her chin?
She swept back a curlicue wave in her hair
A blush warmed the glow of her skin
Each time she drew breath, he had to move near
Such heat held a mind-bending scent
But her mouth seemed to slip, and hold to a sneer
He hoped it was some accident
The noise of his blood leapt close to a roar
She unraveled his thoughts with a glance
Her face was impassive, slammed tight as a door
Then he croaked, “May I please have this dance?”