Eyes of Autumn

Eyes of Autumn

The sun is kind as I serve pie
To the boy in blue perched on my front steps.
I must force myself to remember
To eat with him,
Though all I want to do is stare,
Memory absorbing every detail --
The way the sun sends shafts of gold
Through his lightly tousled hair --
The pale pink flush that suffuses his cheeks
As he sits in the heat in his too-warm clothes.

I don't know
When moments like this became precious;
I only know that they did,
And these minutes stolen on my front steps
Seem the most precious yet.

I wish he'd stop being respectful of me --
Take me in his arms and
Let his hands wander the soft hills of this body --
Rouse my sleeping senses with kisses
And tumble me in a mountain of leaves!

I sip my coffee.
He eats his pie.
My thoughts are unspoken,
My desires are hid,
But in his brown eyes
The leaves dance and swirl
In a wind that heralds
The approach of a storm.


C.P. Warner
9 November 1992