Warm Chill

Poetry by Tom Squitieri

Warm Chill 

It is a sunrise in the middle of the night, an aberration of moments, the jarring of history and
hope, of that seismic shift in life. The full force of the universe from the past, reminding of the
day and the moment. That path is one that can no longer be followed.

A sunrise in the middle of the night. Not a dream. Not imagination. A gateway that is visible, to
harken those gateways from before that were forced or missed or teased or yearned. Like then, it
says nothing more.

Slow wake up. full wake up. your legs lovely with barely flickers of energy. they feel closer and
closer to me.. the slight aroma of your skin is waking as well. i am helpless, as you open them to
call for my tongue.. your eyes, sleepy but still magnetic

A burst of light in the night, making moonbeams envious. Succumb, it says to me, and I
agree....