Boston Poems

Our last dance

Our dance


the scent of frankincense

from your neck captivating.

Will our heart meet again?

“Stay with me!”

My mind tries to speak loud

As I feel the burning flame.


Our mouth silence speech.

Swaying to and fro

In your arms I smell love,

for a moment.


I want to shout,


……as if the moment was truly mine.

©2006 Maxine Foster

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