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Feb 20th, 2008 by admin
Three short matches break the seal of night
To show your face and start a cigarette;
One to light the candle in your eyes
Which warmly dance their message on my mind;
One to shine the moisture on your lips
Where sun-ripe, seedless mellons hang;
The last to play all other tunes
Before the wind again cools its flame,
And we kiss in the dark, alone,
To fix this night for ever.
© athinkingman 2008
This poem grew out of reading Paris at Night by Jacques Prévert.
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I like yours better.
Bit confused about the melons though.
Very sensuous poem.
Nice. Very romantic.