Young Girl and Young Boy In Bed

I was reminded of my first love

And one of our songs which we

Would dance to curled beneath

The sheets of my bed, all young

Naked, drunk with newly found

And made love. It was not that

It was before things went wrong,

For things could never be fully

Right with such a lover, a thick

Wooden post of a lover, always

There, loyal, to hold, to know

That you have but somewhere

At some point

You can feel that

You need

More

Warmth

Than wood can provide

Still I can let a moment pass

Of a slow nostalgic glancing back

Remembering how

Leonard Cohen used to sing:

"On a bed where the moon has been sweating,

In a cry filled with footsteps and sand,

Ay, ay, ay, ay, take this waltz, take this waltz,

Take its broken waist in your hand."

And the desirous violin following,

And then once more 'round the bed-posts.