An Autumn Eve

I wonder how the warmth of your laughter sounds
On the cool of an autumn eve
And if your eyes would shine with a brighter light
Than the moon and stars conceive

And what would your eyes say looking into mine
As the wind rustled through the leaves
And we talked and joked of little things
Such as love's soft magic weaves

I can picture you in an old sweatshirt and faded jeans on an Autumn eve. You, your body lying next to mine with your head on my chest on an old deck chair on the porch. Watching you in the moonlight and shadows as the clouds drift by borne on the breeze of the night. My fingers idly running through the soft of your hair. In the distance a dog barks and the hum of insects mingles with the rustling leaves as you snuggle close beneath an old quilt, and we lose ourselves in a lingering kiss while casting wishes on the stars

I wonder if its the wind, my wishes or want that draws us closer. All I know is that desire is found in the warmth of having you near and tastes like the kiss of your lips…and feels like the lush of your body pressed against mine. For time is not a thing remembered in moments such as this. Time is a place within hearts memory for these moments which speak forever.

Silence and words and teasing laughs, as lovers are wont to do. As if there’s a line I wouldn’t cross for you - a dare I wouldn’t take as you jokingly question the depth of my love. How you love to hear "I love you" and hear it said in a thousand ways.

And I imagine you as a thousand things that you are and aren’t in the magic of the night, and dreams of my heart. You are my drowning in a depth which others would call a kiss, for they don’t know what it is to crave your taste or to live because they share your breath. And you aren't the angel I believe or make believe, such innocence is just the mischief of your eyes - though good of heart and kindly soul, you are a woman in truth who knows both her need and her man.

What is possible?

What is impossible?

In the thought of you my heart hangs suspended between reality and the dream. Seasons change but not my heart, faithless though I sometimes seem. And in the long drawn out stillness, is it not my name I hear whispered in the beating of your heart? For such are my dreams and the longing for you, lost deep in an Autumn eve.