We Were Sweating

I burned a pair of sofas that were rotting in a barn.
The fabric was worn and dry.
When it caught fire, it was engulfed
in minutes. Red, hot, and overwhelmed with the smell
of mildew. It burned for an hour;
we kept the flames back with pond water.
                          Ten feet back, and the heat seared the hair of my arm. It was a cold day,
                          but we were sweating.

I stroked your arm for the first time.
Your fresh skin was smooth and soft.
When I felt your lips, I lost myself
in seconds. Delicate, warm, and inviting to my 
wondering tongue. We sat on the bed for an hour
or two; and entertained ourselves with magic tricks.
                          I pressed up against you, and the heat hit my chest. It was a cold night,
                          but we were sweating.