Long black waves
beat at the rocks
With their grey white cusps
Foaming and angry.
Behind the thick glass
Of the train window,
Stung with rain,
And inside my dark hood
I sit safe in the
Eye of the storm.
So
While the wind moans
And trys vehemently to
Blow out all the candles
We lit last night in the
Garden and our inebriated state,
I dream desperately
Of freckles and fingertips.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
Nicely written. I wish to simply convey an appreciation for your work. It is indeed a pleasure to find a quality poet of the male gender on wordpress.
Respectfully,