illicit november

she twinkled
he wondered
it hurt to look at her
the glow, the brightness, flowed uncontrollably
his pulsing grey was overlooked next to her
the queen told him, 'one day you will blink and she will be gone.
don't let your flower wilt so. winter brings a cold that cannot be melted so easily'
our man of the hour began to built a small fire
with a spark and some sizzles there were flames, embers glowing orange, red, orange, yellow, red, redder, reddest
the ashes hung, mixing with the dancing snow- but he stared into his fire
the glint of recognition told the story too easily,
the glow, the brightness, flowed uncontrollably
the fire roared
then she was there- he uttered a greeting
she instead, ' the burning oak and pine, those smells are memories of love'
alarm disguised as interest asked, 'what color love?'
the stars bled when she laughed
'oh that changes all the time'
coming closer she cupped her hand under his chin,
giving him a skyward tilt
in horror he watched
the glow, the brightness, flowed uncontrollably
as she laughed