Autumn Chill
I’m not as young as I used to be.
no, but you’re younger than i used to be. so there you go.
you need excitement in your life. wish i were there. you wouldn’t be sleepy.
I have to be up at six tomorrow. I just got new sheets,
and I can’t wait to get into them, so soft.
well, if that is the case, and you like clean sheets, then….
i think i’ve figured out how to bring some excitement into your life.
How would you?
throw a few pebbles at your window late at night
about twelve-thirty or one.
you open the window. i climb inside (whatever that may require)
and we leave the window open. dark sky marbled with clouds
moonglow rushing over the eaves of the house
clouds swirling and spinning by in their secret dance
cool air streaming in over the windowsill and
the curtains a-flutter in the midnight breeze
that so few know
so few know
tired and yet, hearts pounding
because it is new again
and it is the middle of the week
and we’ve shattered our routines
perhaps half our smile is for the protest against routine
and sit on the edge of the bed for a while, whispering
shh
let none hear
it is our secret
only the midnight breeze knows
and the cool streaming air cold on our toes
and now and again a quick shiver from the chill
Well. You’ve given me something to dream of.
and then
new sheets
chilled and the heavy blanket
leaving the window open
dancing with the secret breeze while
we warm beneath the heavy cover
the sheets even cold at first
and then warming and
warming and warming
and we are not chilled any longer
pressed as we are together as we once were
along the wide stone wall of a cemetery
warmth of your warmth, breath of your breath
smooth skin against mine
and the moon dipping down over the eaves and lighting
across the sill and floor and creeping toward our smooth
motions beneath the heavy blankets
hands and lips, embracing you lengthwise
a wrist skillfully pressing
a tickling, to feel another’s breath where we never dreamed
we would, shattering routine, half smile for our lovely protest
the other half
ours alone.
Now I believe you’re giving yourself
something to dream of.
© 2013 KS Culbreth.
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