6/17/12

Romance
By Patricia Crandall


On a stormy,
leaf-tossing,
cold, Autumn day,
I sit cozy by the fire,
a toddy hot beside me,
and a small, worn book.
On its pages
faded and blue
are countless romances
fancifully true.
A beautiful countess
in black satin
undulates across the room.
A hand reaches out
in the darkness
yellowed by the moon.
A young woman in old lace
peers intense
at the latch.
And as the door opens
slowly...
sensuously...
New York,
a brownstone
zions of lights
the embrace of two lovers
lusty delights.
Tragicomic endings
on each tale’s last page,
forever romance.


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