Upon our first meeting
The glances were stolen
Quick and furtively
Because our images
Were like that of the sun:
Overwhelming warmth and
blindness,
Too much and not enough.
Time wears on and passions
transform
But now there are years
In a wink, nod, brush of
the hand:
A renewal in every
exchange.
Flashing grins transcend
intimacy,
Lips on skin trace
eternity,
And peeling paint and
cracked concrete
And cat’s fur and flower
petals
And crocheted blankets and
antique lamps
Continually sing
synchronicity.
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