Old acrostic poem, rediscovered on my old livejournal (as are the rest of the “from _…_” entries I’ll be making), from a prompt in a writing group i subscribed to:
This night, beneath the trees, with
All the stars a-light in the sky, you
Kiss me softly until my
Eyes well up with tears.
Moistening my cheeks, they fall,
Yet you catch them on your fingertip.
Tracing the shape of my raccoon eyes,
Even now you say I’m beautiful,
All my hair in disarray.
Reason thrown to the wind, I
Succumb to your gentle touch.