2019-10-12 07:09:40 UTC
Spring Lake, NJ, 2015
The ling'ring Autumn crumbles into memories at my feet
Like morning-after ashes lying in the mantelplace,
And here and there, the leaves wear bits of green, as tho'
The season of an hour, before they pass without a trace.
Now hand in hand, we stroll beside the dunes of oatmeal sand
Where morning waves come tumbling in, to toss their sugar-
On jettied rocks of coffee black, where tired seagulls stand
In silent bands and watch the boards where joggers race
Toward a straggling noon.
Across the street men decorate
Gingerbread eaves with holly sprigs and lights of red and
While pumpkins wait on front porch steps -- for Autumn's
This year. November breezes catch the scents of Halloween
From nutmeg spices warming naked hands as lovers sip
Lattes before the firelight, that welcomed toasty smiles
Perhaps a hundred years ago or more, when buggy whip
And measured hoofbeats paced down cobbled streets, that
stretched for miles
Into the passing years.
The redhaired glow of evening sky
Illuminates the vampire-lantern'd bridge that spans Spring
Beside the Chateau Inn. A night train sings her lullaby
To weekend vagabonds, who climb gazeboed stairs to slake
Their roadworn thirst with amaretto joe. Then fireside hugs
And laughter 'round an impish plate of cookies, all arrayed
In sprinkled splendor stol'n from childhood moons. The old
Along beneath the stars, while night with all her charms
Sets on her drowsy promenade across the slumb'ring world --
And snuggled in her quilted deep, I watch the firelight die.
While lying silent as the dead, with Autumn hair unfurled
My lover strolls the paths of day, as gentle as a sigh
Down cobbled streets that seem to lead into the morning sun.
I close my eyes, and walk beside her, toward the windy shore.
And just before the sleeping stretch of beach, our dream is
And she is breathing softly in the dark with me, once more.