In the evening of our lives when we sit by the hearth,
When we are within most of life’s aftermath.
As the glow of burning fiery logs play in your hair,
It is here I say those things only lovers dare.
Things that still make an old man’s face redden,
Stealing a kiss against a young man’s body leaden.
Only to gain courage from where there was desert,
Courage from the courage less making the convert.
Perspiring hands may have slipped around your waist,
Feeling so belonging, yet against refusal braced,
A finger maps your face touching your lips,
Watching, as eyes close down like a solar eclipse.
Fireside evenings jar memories from years long past,
They lay under us like a beautiful tapestry wide and vast.
Memories are our lives marbled carved pillars,
You are like a Grecian queen well befitting a Grecian villa.