Autumns Fire Poem by Kewayne Wadley

By the slow chill of the autumn fire
the tradewinds blew amongst the gem colored leaves
searching for the warmth of days since past
words hold no bearing here
not touch nor sound
only memories exist here
the times that use to be
the ports have calmed some
not like the days the cobblestones were at their livest
barrels burn by the fires
the streets now empty compared to what they use to be
vendors far and wide have come to a complete stand still
due to the lack of supply and demand
the governments grown more strict
no more painting the walls with our sticks
our own colored coated canvus
that painted the times as we saw fit
the weary hands that played that ol' tuned sax no longer
holds the same tune
my beau no longer calls my name the way she use to back in the spring
how I miss the days in the cold she could find warmth in my arms
not once did the sun ever shine in a different direction
medications and old remeadies fill the corner store that still has the
hen egg that hangs over the door
no more sickness for the fragile that hopes to see a better day
drunkards kiss their bottles as they did in the days of their youth
so many stories as time seems at a stand still while their moments
last a lifetime
slave merchants come and go as not once did thieary or extortion
cross their minds
alot can be said by the slow chill of the autumn fire
not once did my beau ever dream to see the sights my eyes have saught
as beautiful as the skin that blessed her very soul
my beau came to me as a dream
filled with the sweetest savor any man could luster
her taste filled my senses
I was addicted that very moment
if at all possible I'd find the blindest man to give him my eyes and give him my eyes
give him my eyes to tell me twas not a dream
I love my dearest beau where might meets will
throes of passion heard in heavens earliest whisper
for the dawns early light couldn't compare to the taste of her breath
across my face before my eyes awoke the first roosters crow
the weary hands that played that ol' tuned sax no longer
holds the same tune
the streets now empty compared to what they use to be
the peebles skipped across the stone paved road still echos the fires
that kept us warm on the nights home just didn't seem like home
lanterns that became mere moments that passed right in front of us
slave merchants that became selfish as I was just a shy when it came to my darling beau
they'd laugh they'd drink as the wrinkles on their forehead crinkled with much delight
the governments grown more strict
no more painting the walls with our sticks
should my darling beau ver thirst shall my lips fulfill that need
By the slow chill of the autumn fire