“Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.” -Lauren Oliver

She rose from the perfumed water
And stepped gracefully from
The claw-footed tub.
Taking a plush,
Claret-shaded towel from
The heavy, ornate wall hook,
She languidly dried herself,
Enjoying the lushness of the fabric
Against her bath oil scented skin
As a secretive smile played
About her tender, generous lips.
Knowing she was alone,
She left the bath, still nude,
And entered the dimly lit bedroom
Where she made her way silently
To the antique vanity
And sat upon the upholstered stool.
Before her were pots and bottles
Of creams and perfumes,
And a large, softly fragrant candle
Burning brightly,
It's light reflected
In the mirror.
Choosing a certain pot
She began to cream her skin
With the same scent
As her bath oil,
It's fragrance filling the room
As she luxuriated in the sensuousness
Of the moment.
Shoulders,
Breasts,
Arms,
Legs,
No part of her
Remained untouched;
Then she released
Her long hair
From its clip
And brushed it
Until it shown
Like fine satin
As it fell
In heavy splendor
Down her back.
Her toilet now complete,
She rose to her feet
And approached the bed
Where a white confection
Made of Venetian lace
Awaited her donning.
It was Valentine's Day,
Their tenth anniversary,
And the negligee was
A reminder
Of the day
They had vowed their devotion,
And the night they had promised
Their hearts and bodies
For life.
Glancing at the clock
On the table beside the bed
She noted the time.
He would soon be home
And with heightened anticipation
She slipped the gown on,
Smoothing it down
Over her body,
Before beginning to light
The many candles
Atop every surface.
She checked the bottle
Of champagne
Cooling in the ice bucket
Before turning out the lights,
Leaving only the glow of the candles
To illuminate the room.
At that moment
She heard his key in the door
And smiled
As she took her place
Upon the bed,
And waited.

c. 2023