Here are both our reflections:
mine, frowning a cupid’s bow
as I ask you what I should do
with my beard; while through
your own goatee your crooked
smile shimmers back at me.

Here is a house I would love
to live in: a renovated Victorian
with hardwood floors, the toilet
paper roll affixed to the back of
the bathroom door, the couch
under the elegant eaves of that

distinctive second-floor porch,
those steep stairs sweeping up
from the sidewalk . . . And here
is the moment of no return: as
you walk me to your door and
lean in too close, I utter the most

sudden farewell, fleeing off into
the night, realizing, for once, that
this is the moment of promise, at
which I could choose to stop.

This is a lovely, reflective sort of poem, but unless I'm reading things wrong, it seems the chap with the goatee goes along with the house, its retro toilet rolls and sofa all included. You might just need to look for another one ....

Andy:

I really, really like this.  It's melancholy, but sweetly sad and a fine expression of longing.

I especially like the descriptions, which are plain-spoken and reminiscent of some innocence without being cheesy.

I'll line-by-line a little.

Here are both our reflections:
mine, frowning a cupid’s bow [this is the only image I'd change...only this one sounds a little too precious IMHO]
as I ask you what I should do
with my beard; while through
your own goatee your crooked
smile shimmers back at me.  [I really think this spare description of the potential beloved is just right.  It allows us to fill in the details if we want, leave him undescribed if we don't.]

Here is a house I would love
to live in: a renovated Victorian
with hardwood floors, the toilet
paper roll affixed to the back of
the bathroom door, [nice reality check]the couch
under the elegant eaves of that ["Elegant eaves" is a nice surprise since I'm not sure we think of eaves that way often.]

distinctive second-floor porch,
those steep stairs sweeping up
from the sidewalk[stairs/sweeping is another romantic image made more immediate by the sidewalk]And here
is the moment of no return: as [Yes, yes to the "moment of no return."  How many of us are familiar with THAT moment.]
you walk me to your door and
lean in too close, I utter the most

sudden farewell, fleeing [I'd try something other than "fleeing" here.  Just me.]off into
the night, realizing, for once, that
this is the moment of promise, at
which I could choose to stop.  [I love this ending.  Again, any of us who are familiar with the tricks and traps of relationships, can get this.]

I have to say that I actually like the lightness of the impression left with this poem better than the heavy sexual content of some of your others.  Again, just me.  Not a prude, but I like the subtlety here.

rucieree

mananaan wrote:

This is a lovely, reflective sort of poem, but unless I'm reading things wrong, it seems the chap with the goatee goes along with the house, its retro toilet rolls and sofa all included. You might just need to look for another one ....

hahah... yes, this is one of those cases where it seems like it was what he was connected to that I remember most...

rucieree wrote:

Andy: I really, really like this.  It's melancholy, but sweetly sad and a fine expression of longing. I especially like the descriptions, which are plain-spoken and reminiscent of some innocence without being cheesy. I'll line-by-line a little. Here are both our reflections: mine, frowning a cupid’s bow [this is the only image I'd change...only this one sounds a little too precious IMHO] as I ask you what I should do with my beard; while through your own goatee your crooked smile shimmers back at me.  [I really think this spare description of the potential beloved is just right.  It allows us to fill in the details if we want, leave him undescribed if we don't.] Here is a house I would love to live in: a renovated Victorian with hardwood floors, the toilet paper roll affixed to the back of the bathroom door, [nice reality check]the couch under the elegant eaves of that ["Elegant eaves" is a nice surprise since I'm not sure we think of eaves that way often.] distinctive second-floor porch, those steep stairs sweeping up from the sidewalk[stairs/sweeping is another romantic image made more immediate by the sidewalk]And here is the moment of no return: as [Yes, yes to the "moment of no return."  How many of us are familiar with THAT moment.] you walk me to your door and lean in too close, I utter the most sudden farewell, fleeing [I'd try something other than "fleeing" here.  Just me.]off into the night, realizing, for once, that this is the moment of promise, at which I could choose to stop.  [I love this ending.  Again, any of us who are familiar with the tricks and traps of relationships, can get this.] I have to say that I actually like the lightness of the impression left with this poem better than the heavy sexual content of some of your others.  Again, just me.  Not a prude, but I like the subtlety here. rucieree

I'm glad that I could please you with this one, and that's it's doing what I intended it too... your first two comments especially hit the nail on the head of what I'm trying to do as a poet.