the winter is coming.
Then, we will wear nothing but black and white
except for your crimson scarf.
Come back to bed,
while red leaves still blindly find the window glass,
like flames to us, two moths.
Let me kiss your brown and orange wings.
Look,
it rained while we were loving.
Come back to bed--
soon enough, January will settle and stun,
leaving us riven as fence posts.
I don't like to think about it.
Come back to bed.
Your brown sweater and wool socks are somewhere on the floor,
if you want them. If you're cold.
My heart loves nothing as it does
the sight and touch of your warm skin,
and beats best under your protecting palm.
Come back to bed.
I need little else to live for, but that.
By the time winter is done, you will have gone,
and the world will reduce to black and white.
I will go out walking
over the ice-sheathed leaves,
carrying only what I can't let go of,
and wearing your crimson scarf.
I like the way you wove together your words with the pictures... they go together quite well.
ReplyDeleteSpirit, Shay is such a marvelous writer; she and Joy have made me eat my words ('I can't stand love poetry). Between Joy's inner paramour and Shay's gorgeous entreaty to return to bed I am besotted with love poetry. Spirit, please forgive my blindness to the marvels of what love poetry can be in the potent hands of great writers. I humbly redact my idiotic statement made to the walls and replace it with kinder, gentler whispers and coos of love poetry, I will follow you wherever you go.
ReplyDeletei need little else to live for than that as well...regardless the season, lovely warm and inviting...smiles.
ReplyDeleteI'll tell you a secret--I've never liked Fall. To me it's a lying tease, mimicking Spring, saying change and relief are coming, then off comes the mask and that bitter January is all there is, while autumn has run away and left you--this is exactly the feeling I get from this poem--so beautiful, more beautiful than anything that endures can be, the yearning, the sweetness and the pain, and the brief medicine for loneliness that goes down and empties out so fast. The last stanza physically pained my heart regions, yet I still feel the warmth of the red scarf wrapped around me.
ReplyDelete"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower." ~Albert Camus
ReplyDeleteYou've outdone yourself once again, Shay. I love the perfect rhythm of this one and the bittersweet way it makes me feel. Well done!!! xo
A bittersweet yearning - yes.
ReplyDeleteThanks Shay. Your piece Autumn cooled my Innards so I think I will place some kindling and logs atop my outdoor wood burning griddle. Lighting a Fall night with crackling flames and roasting smors.
ReplyDeleteit would be a fool no to come back when presented this.
ReplyDeleteYou did it again, Shay. This is perfection.
ReplyDeletejj
the opening especially is a tight gem
ReplyDeleteLOVE the kitty pic!
Aloha from Waikiki;
Comfort Spiral
> < } } ( ° >
Shay,
ReplyDeleteYou got me with these lines,
"My heart loves nothing as it does
the sight and touch of your warm skin,
and beats best under your protecting palm."
I love the "bests best under your protecting palm."
I also liked the picture of the cat, but made the mistake of clicking on. I now have this huge picture taking up my whole screen.
It's nice, however:~)
"and beats best under your protecting palm."
ReplyDeleteWhat could be more romantic than that?
Awww. The mental pictures you paint made me a bit misty eyed.
ReplyDeleteWow, Shay, this is so wonderful, there are no words. The pain, the longing. I so love the last four lines - the red scarf is just brilliant. Your writing is so incredibly rich.
ReplyDelete'...the world will reduce to black and white' .. no shades of compromise here ..
ReplyDeleteStunning, Shay. One of your labels says: This Tear Will Finally Fall. I'd be surprised if many did not fall while reading this one.
ReplyDeleteIf someone wrote this for me, I'd never get out of bed!
ReplyDelete{{{sigh}}} your love poems really get to me ~ a true romantic, my lady ♥
ReplyDelete