afternoon love

Old haunts but we be new people
familiar tunes but different flutes
A series of moments, garlanded, threaded by “nice”;
smiles from the wells of eyes;
and games of guessing, half wishes…
Afternoon gentle sun; million blues crash against the shore,
strands of her hair, mingle with the spray.

Warmth, intense, intimacy, cosy as cats
as close as a strangler fig, as all pervasive,
songs of our lives, the small steppingstone stories
a declaration-a kiss-a pleasant half asleep silence to float canoes on
with words gently dipping “”plop”” into this
murky twilight riverside world

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