Whereas the Sumner’s tales are finally ending <br />Whereas the birds that flock are fledged and flown <br /> And the dryness of the leaves strew the path of fog <br />Within the falling of the pelting raindrops <br />Within the wings of the whispering winds <br />Once again we continue upon another lover’s journey <br /> And gather the poems of our every thought <br />Not just the sweet, but the sour with bittersweet aftertaste <br />That we harvest from the gardens of our ecstasy; <br /> Not just the ripe, but, the rotten parts as well; <br />Mixed with wine and woes about the repercussions <br />Tangled in the cufflinks and gowns and late night trips <br />Where the coffee shops find our every tab and frequent <br /> In the secrecy, sensations, and sadness<br /><br />Jason PraTT<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-afternoon-s-affair/
