“I hate these period pieces,” he said. "I'll never be able to live up to Ralph Fiennes or Colin Firth." “C’mon you’ll enjoy it,” she said tugging him into the darkened theater. “Why don’t they ever show them a few years later, when they’re both penniless and trying to make ends meet?” he said sarcastically. “You’re so unromantic,” she chided.
“I loved the movie,” she crowed as she climbed into bed. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,” he recited. “What are you doing?” she giggled. “It’s Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” he stated. “I know she said, but it sounds funny coming from you.” “I’ve lost my way,” he said quietly. “What do you mean?” she asked quizzically.
I’ve lost my way.
I’m drowning in
the smell of your
hair, your eyes,
your lips. I’ve
nestled down
inside you
and each kiss
fades into
another,
bringing me
closer to home.
I’m drowning in
the smell of your
hair, your eyes,
your lips. I’ve
nestled down
inside you
and each kiss
fades into
another,
bringing me
closer to home.
“Who wrote the poem?” she gasped. “I did,” he said, kissing her firmly as soft O’s of surprise fluttered from her lips.
3 comments:
What a surprise ending!
I hope all your movie nights are as pleasant as this poem.
hahaha! Film is my career and passion, and yet I don't like period pieces. But you have created a fun and lovely piece about it and couples. I can just picture them from beginning to end.
Lovely!
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