“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

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