Sunday, June 19, 2011

the dance

Tomorrow, when the guests have departed,
the balloons deflated,
and the champagne de-fizzed,
you will sit alone
and contemplate how the years zipped.

But tonight, tomorrow is just a figment,
and with my hand in your sunworn hand,
we twirl round and round,
and I hope that you see:
I’m yours now more than ever,
our eyes, thunderstorm mirrors,
and your heart?

I carry it in my heart.

1 comment:

  1. Really miss your blogging, to be honest.