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: 
Me

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