in your sights i felt thunder,
glamorous, humbling, coloring me.
the cadence of your feet, upon icy sheets,
up was a flanking stare, sundering me.
upon winter flowers, a warm blanket, at the apogee,
bundling, a sparkling picnic with kindling.
hungry and spent, still leveling, revelrous,
disguised instincts as misgivings, querulous.
dalliance abiding, an abode-esque semblance,
and many silly kitchen grown sentences.
buttered up, rapt and clasped in exchange of gaze,
laconic at most in lieu of pleading.
twain unsure of meaning,
for teasing in lieu of stealing.
when left bereft, left shaken.
perhaps cages were staged,
built beside mistakes,
forgiven if forsaken.
one of these days, then.