---a sentimental ditty of a meaningful moment which meant nothing--- her name was danielle, and a laborer was she she slaved the midnight hours at a factory with me she, coltish and poised on dawn of womanhood i, in distant view of boyhood's twilight stood her smile was easy, and her hair a bit of wild her eyes asparkle with mirth, and how her charms beguiled slender as a willow wand was this sweet danielle and most childlike tales of revelry she would nightly tell of drunken friends and careless hours dancing of lusty, reckless kisses and thoughtless nights romancing all that lay before danielle I had already passed in fleeting nights of pleasure too swift to ever last the naked interludes with strangers i would oft recall we promised each other nothing and then gave up our all all this lay before danielle, joys and sorrows to discover the abandonment of senses in the arms of each new lover the heartbreaks uncounted that such young beauties find the stumbles to be expected when lust has made you blind the love that makes no sense is that we most desire and twixt sweet danielle and i was always a smoldering of fire at last in reckless passion our greedy hands did grope she kindled the fires inside me when i had abandoned hope in a loft for supplies intended we made our passioned throe i kissed her hard then placed on the matted tarp below gentle were our hearts, but not so was our love i poured into her roughly as i straddled from above like talons her nails drew red lines upon my back and time again our bodies met in a scarcely stifled smack an arch to meet my every thrust danielle would lithely make and countless times arch met thrust before our thirst was slaked brief was the respite before our love resumed braving sweet taboo, detection was our doom from behind i took her, then she above at the end glistening and trembling, i gave her all that i could spend then laughter overtook us and onto the tarp we fell like a child was i in league with her, my sweet danielle at last we found our old blue jeans and work shirts made of flannel and sought once again to labor our tired hands to channel within a month a new career for me began danielle's youth would tarry longer, and i was too old a man i know naught of where she is, thoughts of her are rare i've moved so far away, and little is my time to spare but on those nights when i feel old and beyond my time i see danielle and behind her to the loft my heart will climb these dreams are fiery, marvelous and brief but still they hold me to a comforting belief that somewhere a young beauty lies in a dream of similar tone and though in bed i lie dreaming, i do not lie alone @)--- to danielle from third shift, i thought of you tonight and of the merry hours we labored in    ---darkness---