Of hope

Witty Fay's picture


This love of yours
Refuses to say still
And rambles on
The narrow streets of my mind,
Once again.
Peerless at showing me
All the ways we fall apart,
On our own or as one,
Unhinged by loneliness
And saving balance for the grace of old age.
And, yes, the intemperate joy
Of your palm
Resting on my thigh
Takes on new layers of aliveness
Growing in step with time-
A thread of happiness.

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