Frosted Windows
Eyes reflect a fireplace glowing,
Moonlight has its luring say.
Wrest the cork, the wine is flowing,
Laughter eases care away.
Glasses clink through frosted windows.
Reminisce when first they meet.
Face to face on propping elbows,
Whispers pillows ever keep.
Passion molds a cryptic sculpture
Shaped without a reason why.
Love creates a mystic culture,
Words attempt but can't define.
Gene Bourne
03-12-14
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
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