Occasional Poetry

Trip to Yuma-Santa Barbara-Griffth Park-E's Commute 628

To my love, in our first year

(Sept 2002)

We kissed and began a dream

a long and textured story

that began at believing

and found its way to knowing.

We held hands in the street

and the world found its way around us,

eyeing us with curiosity,

guarded against our honesty.

Strangers blocking our sunlight

were not welcome to it.

all others were, however.

We made love like water,

langorous, rocketing, momentous, quiet.

we drew in centuries of lovers held back

and released them.

We found purpose in each other

and hope in ourselves,

where once had been fear

was now fire.

In the first year,

we tasted it all,

and learned that we had a taste for it.

In the first year,

we realized that what makes good love

is great challenges

and finding your way through to the joy

that waits in the second year.


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