February’s Grey
When the November sky is October
blue and the breeze is a warm September,
I can taste that time we kissed. Chicago
in the rain and Paris with its heat wave,
hold memories no one else shares with me.
The warmth of your palms following the curve
of my waist and hips, caressing my cheek;
finger tips trailing rain drops down between
my breasts – your touch still ignites desire,
even across this span of years gone by.
February’s grey colors in my moods,
doesn’t heed the lines or form, scribbling,
erasing, on a whim, pieces of life
the way it was, leaving me with today.


The Months Ahead

August ends with whispering
warm breath escaping from lips,
steaming the crisp morning air
in a swirl of coffee and cream fog.

September graces her
with bright sunshine and the desire to stay
beneath blankets, wrapped
naked in his warmth.

October promises hesitate
on the horizon, waiting –
anticipating their next move
forward, one step at a time.

November dreams drift in and out;
December remains in the shadows –
neither sure the other is real
both lingering for the new year
and the months ahead.