One everlasting evening
by cricketjeff on December 11, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
Cuddled up beneath a blanket, drinking brandy, killing time.
Your lips were sweet as cherries but your nose was cold as ice,
It sounds a little crazy but the shock was very nice.
We talked about Bukowski and the colour of your hair,
The best of Shakespeare’s sonnets, while I kissed you everywhere,
Of masculine and feminine in formal poetry,
And, as the evening died away, you gave yourself to me.
The night was full of rapture with our bodies making verse;
Extemporising passion, it’s a dance you can’t rehearse.
Soon everything was different, and even more the same,
I knew that I had played my ace and won you in the game.
We’ll spend a perfect lifetime as we write about our love,
With tales that tell our histories and praise the moon above;
With metaphors and meters and with every new device,
I’ll write about my poetess whose nose is cold as ice!