Young Love


Even if my air were shattered…a since of completeness puts me at ease.

To travel this journey of tightropes…and, understand I do not venture alone.

Had I not taken a walk…

barren footpaths with little pride.

Had I not fallen from side to side.

Would I have recognized what it means to…

‘grow old together.’

All the senses aroused by parallel courage.

The malice of well-traveled storms.

The bite of absorbent winds.

Ridges of our life together.

An hour-glass of sunny sides to the streets.

Dark and doubtful mornings.

An hour’s glass of every conceivable element strewn in our path.

How slight the moments…

How slight every forever…

How deliberate the time…as we, grow old together.

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