The pile lake scene of the warm east side,
from exile north of your cosy home fide.

The olden time was 6 in my wristwatch,
I'm scratching the colden cloying chocolate.

I brought up a ruddy colour tent,
fought with me and you asked, "can I rent?"

Sleeping frill together gazing face to face,
spilling sense under a blue blanket,

Your ripe gasping slumping on my soft lips,
I laid my rasping bag between our frost face.

Your watery blue eyes smiled but you're not,
cause you know why I did.

Classic grace talks, blushing creamy cheeks,
bedding in the same promising freebie pillow,

My disturbed wet hand in your tawny hairs,
your curbed view on my vapid gawky eyelet.

The quiet shivering trees in the air,
I brought the balance chocolate from my bag,

Thirst tongue spoke a mood,
our young hands were shabby.

So, I grab the chocolate by my fluffy mouth,
you smashed a slab by your puffy teeth.

After 1 we came out and glancing around,
whirling flimsy on the moonlight crown.

We laid in the black pebble with cherished,
counting the double skylit shooting stars.

Your twinkling green eyes staring me,
I remember that persistent night,

I could glance the entire eternal moon,
with my charming face in your eyelets.

This month remember that,
"Day of November"


#KevinDays
© Kevin Anthony