We may not light so many fires
but I'll be yours if you'll be mine.
Shallow eyes see lines and grooves
but I see wise and warm and weft,
there's plenty left.
I see proof of life.
Four score and twenty lie between
our bellies, bigger than before,
but soft and more for us to hold.
We fold together, tender in our wrinkled sheets,
and I can see it in your eyes,
we may not light so many fires
but I am yours and you are mine.
We are not bound by gold or ink
but when one sinks, the other lifts,
no one drowns, and when the darkness
comes within, whisper circles on my skin,
let me see how to begin again.
Love is not a cul-de-sac
or paper stained with certainty,
duty-bound or locked in obligation,
but an avenue, a motorway,
an endless path meandering,
holding hands until we reach
our final destination.
Though we sometimes fall and falter,
lose our grip in helter-skelter,
human flaws making diamonds
fall from both our eyes,
salt and glitter, just remember
I am yours and you are mine
and we're alive together,
lighting fires at twilight.
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