Wool and Thunder

It was late one night,
and I had some company.

A pretty young girl
that I met a few weeks earlier
who laughed at most of my jokes
and forgave the rest.
It soon began to rain
and instead of
walking home in a downpour,
she decided to
stay the night.

As the hours rolled on
and the rhythmic shifts
in rain
hammered overhead,
her laughter became louder,
and more frequent.
Our hands met clumsily under my blanket,
and as I grew funnier,
she inched closer and
her free hand explored
everything
beneath my
shirt.

We spent the rest of the night
finding monsters 
in the shadows
dancing on the walls
tossed in from the storm outside,
and trading kisses under the cover of
wool and thunder,
hoping the storm
would never
pass.