A tender moment, lying
side by side.
No want or great desire stirred a movement.
And yet the energy of love was so
completely present. Gentle touch,
the feel of healing.
Holding hands, a wayward
Precious, the experience of love.
Walking in the self-same rhythm.
Movement giving way to deeper need.
Hearts reborn within an
of timelessness. Choking then,
upon the end - when their hands
were forced to just let go, for
the world they lived in, full of
greed and politics, insisted that
it must so.
A tender moment, living
out of time.
How endlessly this love sublime
retrieves its memories...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2002, Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .