“Your place or mine?” the cowboy asked
with a smile that melted ice;
I read something deep in his eyes,
not quite gentleman or nice–
It wasn’t love or gentle sex
that I saw in his eyes,
But more like tumbling in the hay.
Where I would be the prize.
“Your place or mine?” he asked again,
as fingers lightly touched my cheek,
I followed him out of the bar,
like a lamb, I was that meek.
Your place or mine?
It was neither one that night–
but a little place down on the beach,
where the surf was light,
and with a blanket on the sand,
And stars that filled the skies,
I found something in his arms,
that filled those light blue eyes.
And now he’s gone, I know not where,
He didn’t mean to be unkind,
and I smile when I recall
those words — “Your place or mine?”
Sandra Lee Smith
Originally posted March 39, 2010
Updated September 8, 2018
