November 12th

Come,
let us talk of laughter and love,
lovers and lost youth,
kisses,
warm and moist,
on the back of a
long forgotten porch,
beneath cool crisp
autumn skies;

I can still taste it
to this day.

I have not forgotten,
only learned to hide away
that which could never be,
and that which never was,
sometimes I wonder
if there has ever been another,
somehow it always
comes back to you,
still it does not matter;

and perhaps
It never did.

Occasionally,
when least expected,
the fire flares up,
raging wildly out of control,
but I have learned
to let it burn itself out,
then it will die down;

as it always does.
.
.