closed encounters with a quartet

t is not everyday that you get to see,
(through slit thin eyes and sideways looks)
a bright face
illuminated
outshone
only by a brighter smile -
white teeth
bared between
swollen lips -
dimples gleam;
thoughtfully engraved in each
chiseled cheek,
a marble
statue-sque
staring blindly back
as only a Grecian god could --
taken aback from what i had beheld
with caprice,
i admittedly took
another's hand in mine, waiting
yet all the while,
watching -- jarred.
motionless as you plucked each heavy string
with slender all-knowing forefingers,
wishing
in-between each beat
that the instrument was me.
Lights glued to the ceiling bathed you,
iridescent you rode the rhythm, each blue note a star
with a suppressed giggle 
a hidden blush,
i rode along too,
inside the reflections
understanding that which was underlying
(for whom the river of cadence had been devised for-)
longingly i moved my body in response,
waiting for your attention to be diverted
for your statement to be confirmed,
for your grey eyes to burn
into mine.