Candlelight dancing off the rippling bathwater, The steam rising off it with an aroma So sweet, From the herbs steeped in it, I’m a goddess, An empress, And my nectar is the red wine Chilled to my preference, The delicate stem dangling from my fingertips And I watch. As the coolness drifts off the glass in lazy tendrils, Dancing over the surface of the heated water. I part my lips and exhale gently onto the curve of it Until the twirling fingers of cold opposing the heat Swirl desperately, My breath is the master, The air the puppet, And I tilt my head at the first notes of a song that draws me back, Back to a liason in the dark With an exotic lover, The French words slipping over my skin As silkily as his lips did, Each verse reminding me of how we celebrated those verses then, Raucously Remorselessly Hedonistically, Almost as I do now, With my ambrosia and my rose petals dancing among sprigs of herbs on the water, With an orchestra hailing my memory, All by the light of countless, Flickering flames.