PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Could you paint me a September?

   The wind whistled through the open window,

   carrying the scent of damp, moldy leaves.

   It hadn't occurred to me that such a foul smell

   could unearth your face.



   But you were there,

   spread out on the grass,

   staring up into the shadows

   that crept across the sky.



One with pumpkins.

   Ah, yes, the pumpkin patch.

   The vines snapped and popped around us;

   but we never noticed

   (I only wanted to listen to your heart pulsate).



   And we slept,

   right there on the soft clay,

   surrounded by premature vegetables.

   Not really romantic, but how many can say

   they slept with the pumpkins?



Pile the leaves high in the front yard.

   You tackled me, and together we fell,

   sending fistfuls of confetti fluttering around my face.

   We sank in deeper, and the leaves enveloped us;

   your silhouette blocked the only escape.



   Later, you gingerly untangled the rough petals from my hair.

   The gesture was so sweet, and yet simple,

   that I didn't mind the scrapes ornamenting my face.

   Besides, the tiny incisions gave you a reason to touch me.



Could you paint us another September?