Carnival

.
.
Dancing to oldies  at the carnival,

arms and hands intertwined.

Laughter
… so much laughter.

Walking down the up-hill,
holding hands,
arms automatically
sliding across each other’s waists.

Still so much laughter.

Preparing for the fireworks.
Spreading a quilt on the lawn.
Grabbing sugar cookies and drinks.

Waiting,
While laughing
and exchanging blatant kisses
falling like moonbeams on our lips.

Each kiss
a separate love note
to some un-played tune,
consisting of notes
not yet invented.

You.
Me.

Laughing more,
when the first
crraack of fireworks
rises into the sky,
summoning our eyes
to the colors in the dark.

Your arms gathered me
like a picture, yet untaken,
as I grasped your hand 
smiled,
held myself in check
because, in the moment,
I wanted to smother
you with passion
right then and there.

Golds, silvers, reds, blues,
greens burst and burnt out
as the next round of fireworks
made tinges of the old
look like giant, floating
jellyfish in an array 
of sulfur smelling clouds.

We have come this far
down the up-hill,
growing, knowing
and creating larger
and larger places 
in each other’s hearts.

Perhaps, we are preparing
for going up the downhill
as our autumn turns to spring.

Copyright ©2011/Kyle Anne

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2 responses to “Carnival

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