Hopeful

My new neighbor is mouse quiet.
Svelte with brown eyes, soft as tea.
I love her, but she doesn't know it
yet. When she sees me her voice
is like a whisper and I have to lean
towards her to hear what she has
to say. There is a lot of smiling,
and nodding, politeness. I smell
the food she cooks at night as it
filters through the windows. I hear
her music turned gently up. I imagine
dancing with her, slowly around
the room, my hands around her waist.
She is always wearing a white dress,
and smells like lavendar. Of course
her husband, the weight lifter, might
have other thoughts about our romance,
but maybe we can work that out, just
maybe he won't crush me in his iron
fists like a holiday walnut and allow
our love to blossom as it should.