I find myself sitting here today,
in this same old familiar café,
with thoughts of you dancing in my head,
and of passions that have yet to be fed.
And though my body yearns for the slightest touch,
a voice inside whispers that even that would be too much.
Still, I sit here at this same wooden table,
mind, body, and soul visually able,
listening to some soulful, jazz refrain
of a "ballad" by the one and only Sir John Coltrane.
I'm desiring to taste your lips,
as the strength of my aging hands rests
upon the roundness of your hips;
Pulling you ever so close to me,
while absorbing your feminine essence oh so tenderly.
How it causes my spirits to soar,
and to heights mine eyes have never witnessed before;
Appearing in such an inviting disguise,
right there, beneath Billie and the sadness of them there eyes.
But when 'Trane speaks of "Nancy (with the laughing face),"
only hints of my forbidden love linger in this secret place.
So, I grab my hat and leave the scene,
haunted by the thoughts of a lover's bitter-sweet dream.
Outside, Heaven's rain is gently falling,
as an old nemesis and one-time friend comes calling.
Perhaps "you don't know what love is,"
his sinister little voice begins,
only to "say it (over and over again)."
Well, if I should discover this simple truth someday,
then it will be here … in this same old familiar café.