Post by jeannerené on Jun 4, 2007 0:03:17 GMT -8
~~I left a kiss upon your lips
so soft you thought I was only a dream~~
Lofty amber globes highlighted the parking lot.
Caught in a saffron ambiance, the night drizzle
looked like fairy sparkle falling down above our heads.
Inside, among the paperbacks,
the cup of coffee and intelligent conversation
had placated the evening,
pacified the emptiness,
but the fulfillment quickly waned.
The twilight’s rain
spattered my face and impassioned again
each of my impatient senses.
Stepping down to the curb, I smiled goodnight.
The corners of my mouth ached for words
held back by civil salutations.
Words kept silent from fear that you would love me
if I let go a singe sound
or unguarded gesture born of my infatuation.
If I had spoken “don’t go”
you might have held me too closely
and kissed my lips so hard I would have cried in pain
. . . if I had spoken.
We closed the door behind
and joined the recital of disjointed exchanges
and kinetic promenade of the bourgeois in motion.
I inhaled exhaust fumes wafting through the bouquet of dampness,
and startled at blinking turn signals,
glimpsed at the dial that said time to go home,
felt my hair slapping a cold cheek,
but I was mindless to all, except your silly turned-up collar.
I suffered, longing to reach and straighten it,
and slip my hand across the warmth of your neck.
. . . longing to pull your mouth down to mine,
entrap you with permission
to devour the moment’s vulnerability
and let you love me.
We walked easy,
leisurely
fluent
as if strolling through clover on a gracious afternoon
through the rain . . .
Under the street light we stood
no umbrella,
but shielded just the same
from the enchantment
and yet I swore our hearts were pounding
to the rhythm
rhyme of each gentle raindrop
pretending
we didn’t see in each other’s eyes
our reflection
each goodbye’s hesitation
jeanne rené 5.05
so soft you thought I was only a dream~~
Lofty amber globes highlighted the parking lot.
Caught in a saffron ambiance, the night drizzle
looked like fairy sparkle falling down above our heads.
Inside, among the paperbacks,
the cup of coffee and intelligent conversation
had placated the evening,
pacified the emptiness,
but the fulfillment quickly waned.
The twilight’s rain
spattered my face and impassioned again
each of my impatient senses.
Stepping down to the curb, I smiled goodnight.
The corners of my mouth ached for words
held back by civil salutations.
Words kept silent from fear that you would love me
if I let go a singe sound
or unguarded gesture born of my infatuation.
If I had spoken “don’t go”
you might have held me too closely
and kissed my lips so hard I would have cried in pain
. . . if I had spoken.
We closed the door behind
and joined the recital of disjointed exchanges
and kinetic promenade of the bourgeois in motion.
I inhaled exhaust fumes wafting through the bouquet of dampness,
and startled at blinking turn signals,
glimpsed at the dial that said time to go home,
felt my hair slapping a cold cheek,
but I was mindless to all, except your silly turned-up collar.
I suffered, longing to reach and straighten it,
and slip my hand across the warmth of your neck.
. . . longing to pull your mouth down to mine,
entrap you with permission
to devour the moment’s vulnerability
and let you love me.
We walked easy,
leisurely
fluent
as if strolling through clover on a gracious afternoon
through the rain . . .
Under the street light we stood
no umbrella,
but shielded just the same
from the enchantment
and yet I swore our hearts were pounding
to the rhythm
rhyme of each gentle raindrop
pretending
we didn’t see in each other’s eyes
our reflection
each goodbye’s hesitation
jeanne rené 5.05
