November Nights

A cool November night:


A fire blazes inside 


This home of my youth.




White blinds are drawn tight


Against the thick atmosphere


Of avant-garde thought




As frost develops-


Enclosing the suburban


World surrounding us.




Warm blankets are stacked


In a basket of wicker


Left to be unused




As the substitute


Flames of romance are brewing,


Stewing amongst us.




Adolescents perch


Not upon crème cushions, but


Fresh revelation;




And ambient sounds 


Act as nothing but white noise 


In lieu of embrace.




There is no end to


Our touch- the brush of skin


Against another.




Slowly, cautiously  


The tension of the night flew


Into fruition. 




The exact moment 


Ran backward my heart just like


The Mississippi:




When the earth once quaked


With the same vehemence 


Of this mended soul.




As my heart did turn


Violently at remembrance 


Of your hand on my




Face- those lips on mine-


That first was indication


Of a new future.




One cool November 


Set the fire of my love


Forever with you.

This poem is about: 


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