Smoky breath
Meets yours on the cigarette byways
Electric sound
Floats from the mike in airwaves
Sultry voice
Croons deep velvet in your ear
Whisky ice
Swirls down the brooding glass
Eyes rove
Try to find mine across the room
Keep going
Move on, babe, move on
A dame like that
Black-and-white grain and flicker
Arched brow
Red lips
Dream on, dreamer, dream on
They don’t make ‘em like this anymore
I imagine this as a slow jazz song crooned by a chain-smoking flapper in a speakeasy. No, just me? Alright, well... guess I'm a sucker for a smooth voice. ;)
