I am posting this earlier than normal because I think when I get home I may need some warm and cuddly reviews to lift my spirits.
xx
D is for dancing, not that we ever did much of it. I know I wasn't the most elegant of men on the dance floor and I can hardly blame you for choosing James in that respect but the few times we did take the floor together have been forever engrained in my memory.
You are so light on your feet, so elegant and poised. Not that you aren't always as such but there's just something about you that's different when you're dancing. You love it, I have rarely seen you happier than when you were twirling about. Even now I wish I'd studied the dance steps with more interest so that I could waltz you about with the same finesse you deserve.
Do you remember that winter's morning, just before Christmas? I swung you around the kitchen like a bloody madman, just too enthralled by your willingness to be in my arms to even think about how foolish we must have looked. You were laughing so hard at me, clutching to my shoulders as I used my increased strength to twirl you around until we came into contact with that blasted table. I know for a fact that your hip must have been very sore because mine was smarting but you just brushed it off, wound your arms around my neck and gave me the most alluring, most lazy of grins.
D is for dancing, because I figure you can always give me lessons.