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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Lori (the shadow of a lighter poem) Lori, I'm not in love with you, but I do think that you are pretty; so with a pathetic chance to smile, I was willing to take your hand. I could not understand it though, before now, you never talked to me, and I had only known your name as another face within the crowd. Yet, here we are, holding hands, talking; should instead, as I wonder, why, as I follow your lead, anticipation, outside, into the night. Across this parking lot and through the gate, in the freezing air, behind; The crystal ring around the moon; we find warmth, exhausting from within. We sat talking on that metal grate, overlooking the gym-day fields. An illusion; was that warming steam, as a spot drier from the snow. I was like a blind man, being led; the untrained soldier in the field. But your permissive eyes, asked me, if I was willing to keep you warm? So, as I reach behind you, my hand: with your hip and mine, now closer. As I turn my eyes, in yours I see; to find your tongue and mine now touch My rising hand finds your warming skin; cold fingers, shivers, down your spine A postured arch, rising chin disarms, your ear lobe and neck: elating As I climb the stairs at the hallways end, for she said that she'd be there Should I kiss her or maybe later, how should I act in public view As she had told me, she'd be waiting; and, with an unknown friend, she was They were laughing as she glanced at me, she said, "I told you that he would" © Jeffrey Spencer
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