September

The body knows when Autumn is on the way.
No need to look at the calendar.
A lifetime spent in school, college and school again
Has seen to that.
It's seeped into the bones.


The smell of the first fallen leaves, sweet and earthy.
The gathering dusk, earlier every day.
Thin, dazzling sunlight fighting against
Lowering clouds, gusty winds, cooling temperatures.
A losing battle.


We try to disguise the dying year, like putting rouge onto a corpse's face.
Dressing it up as a new start.
Exaggerating the pleasures of log fires, jolly festivals and going out, 
Rosy cheeked and mufflered.


It worked when I was young,
But now, in the autumn of my life,
It heralds only Winter and
The cold, cold ground. 

Kisses

The worst kiss I ever had was sloppy wet,
Infirm of purpose,
Like a cold fish handshake.
She was beautiful in her way,
Much sought after and strangely 
Keen.
I thought it was me.
My fault that I did not like her smell
Or that our limbs clashed somehow.


The next kiss, much later, too long later, was the best.
She was ordinary, like me,
But with an inner flame.
The teeth of  the gear wheel
Latched  into the holes of the chain.
Tight,
Well oiled.
Smooth.
Without trying, we accelerated
Up the hill.


Afterwards, we lay and looked at each other,
Breathless, shaken and sparkly -eyed.
Ordinary no longer,
We wondered at the mystery of it all.

November Sunday

Darkness had fallen.
Curtains were drawn against the yellow lights that
Budded in the empty street.
A log fire crackled softly, a flickering, dancing glow,
And you sat in my lap,
In the nest of my arms,
One on each leg.
You both gazed, silent and entranced,
At the television and the lions of the Serengeti,
While I gazed, silent and entranced,
At you.