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Ecstasy At A Cafe (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
Whilst sitting alone in a small café waiting for my meal,
I wile away the time by watching people stroll in – some in
small groups, and some with their arms around each other’s
waists stealing sideway glances filled with desire. Desire
for food or lust? I wonder.

And then a man enters. A man I have seen many times. He
looks my way, yet he sees me not. Oh, but do I ever see him --
the green of his eyes, the arc of his brows, the strands of gray
amidst a thick, dark wavy head of hair. Fine, delicate lines
etch the curves of his sensuous mouth. His stride is confident and

relaxed as he passes by my table. To my surprise he sits right
behind me. I can hardly contain my giddiness. Feeling the warmth
of his back just inches from mine sends my head spinning. The mere
presence of his being causes my appetite for food to plummet,
and my voracious appetite for passion to escalate. I imagine

we are lying on a bed of soft, green moss in the middle of a
forest, filling the atmosphere with particles of joy and rapture.
Him, kissing the nape of my neck, me touching the tautness
of his back with my fingertips. He whispers something in my
ear. A surge of heat shoots up my spine. We kiss with extreme

passion. I’m lost in his embrace moaning in exquisite delight.
Time does not exist . . . I don’t know how long I had been caught
up in my fantasy when I hear a voice say “hello”. I turn around
to see him smiling at me. I smile back. Did he know what was
going on inside my mind?

At that moment I wanted to tell him how often he has invaded my
dreams, my thoughts? Yet, I am the one who creates these images,
not him. Is that pathetic of prophetic -- him being so familiar and yet
a complete stranger? This stirring of my emotions is the affect the
Son of Eros has upon my psyche.

Perhaps I shall keep him in the dream realm where we will
always have a safe haven for passion and love to morph
into endless bliss. In the meantime, we exchange names, and
he invites me to join him rather than eat alone. I wonder if he
is Greek?


Senior Member
In clear terms, this was quite romantic. A quick grip on fantasy, and reality sweetly coupling such sweet emotions and moments. Really your message reflects the title of your poem.
Just a few nits:

"Is that pathetic of (I believe 'or' works)

stirring of my emotions is the
affect (effect) the
Son of Eros has upon..."

Thanks for this, Eleda.
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Senior Member
Nicely built picture and an interesting question at the end. No not whether he's Greek, but should he be kept in your mind as a fantasy rather than wrenched into reality. I liked this very much.