She held my hand as we climbed <br /> <br />The magnificent staircase of the art museum, <br /> <br />it was a summer holiday and we were slightly tipsy <br /> <br />From afternoon wine in the flower garden. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />She touched my lips and spoke, <br /> <br />'Nothing more for you to drink, <br /> <br />I don't want the curator to dismiss you as a drunk <br /> <br />Who would fail to appreciate this sacred place <br /> <br />With landscapes of Delacroix and Renoir' <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />I was only inebriated enough to be happy in the moment <br /> <br />Of our footsteps intimately keeping pace with each other; <br /> <br />I felt indebted to the Greek gods Dionysus and Pan <br /> <br />That I was alive and wrapped in her perfume. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />She would point to paintings or ancient pots <br /> <br />But I would smile and say, 'I only want to gaze <br /> <br />Quietly into the mystery of your eyes.' <br /> <br />But I could tell she was becoming irritated <br /> <br />that I wasn't taking in the scenery of my surroundings <br /> <br />More completely, so I became more submissive <br /> <br />and less outwardly in love.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/more-submissive/
