Litkicks Message Board Archive

I have a mental picture of you reclining on a chaise lounge...

Posted to Poetry

...being fed peeled grapes by leering satyrs

Bitter winds pummel my tent
and the few stunted pines
hardy, or foolish, enough
to try to survive above treeline.
I think of nights spent
in your warm bed, making love
or discussing art while sipping wine
from the other's glass.
But I was decadent then,
and foolish enough to think
I could find happiness
outside my mountain home.
Since then I have forsworn
the loneliness of women and drink
for the company of mountains.
By body still aches for
your familiar touch from time to time,
but in my heart
you are dead to me.