Lipstick on the Glass

A poem by STEWART LISTER VICKERS

All I have left is your lipstick on the glass.

How we loved, you and I.

That silver screen so silent, yet so sublime,

as we drank and staggered

through the empty streets of shining light,

and the dances in your eyes.

Lost in your hair, we lay

In love, the music enchanting,

the flow of champagne, steamy glasses,

cut crystal and the finest diamond,

You.

Or so I thought. Now

All I have left is your lipstick on the glass.