SIXTEEN HOURS

His joy-filled smile: the afternoon sun

His gentle laugh: the lake’s waves

His attentive eyes: the evening breeze

My flitting thoughts: dragonfly over the water

He is genteel and genuine

I want to genuflect

I want to hold this time that has vanished in galleries of barely stifled laughter, irreverent intellectualism and bawdy beautiful

Yet even more I would hold him

Know the lines of lithe, lissome limbs –

Lips leaning in to learn lovers’ language

But it has only been (has it but only been?)

Sixteen hours

 

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