The light was right - a dusty yellow, dark below, not too high and not too low, wine untouched and pictures askew, keep your shoes on, whatever you do, shadows moving and souls proving that magic still exists before and after lovers kissed, hearts beating and moments fleeting to the rhythm of the clock and hands that mock, feel their way with deft skill - nothing else moves, never, until passion flows and rose up like sunbeams finding polished surfaces ever extending, arched backs like willows abending, with wait and go - tomorrow never comes.