Monday, 17 July 2017




So young, walking out on summer hand in hand.
Our newness overcome as our fingers entwine,
in a besideness pinked in dress and eyes,
we float beneath the dappled surface.

How you shine.

Floating oblivious we see, in a sky
rising thin and clear, in a sense sublime,
that with each light squeeze around your waist,
we knew that we were merging.

A first kiss turning in stopped time,
and I am yours and you are mine.

Was it really fifty years ago?

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