We are young again

I drank the moon from your eyes

when the nights drew in,

street lights were few,

and Autumn grew in the grass.

I swallowed the stars

as our breath made patterns

like joss sticks

in the unforgiving evening

when we were young.

We stood in your porch,

dumb carol singers

with entwined fingers

and entangled tongues.

When we were young

in the unforgiving evening

of Autumn,

the Spring of our beginning.

A first kiss that waited so long,

in the congress of shadows.

The close protective porch

outside your forbidding front door

when we were young.

We are young again,

now, in our own Autumn

and the comfort of our age.

We are young again.

 

NB: photo by Chris Spencer