when the room was bright, the scent was harsh, and dark blood stained the birthing table, they were together.

when the dog was wild and school was new and life was a leaf in the wind, they were together.

through the fog of teenhood, the confusion of feeling, the surging lust for freedom, they remained together.

each one’s hand was made for the other’s, perfect and ready like a mold.

each one knew the soul of the other, better than he knew his own.

in the silence and stillness of night, they would sit together, looking forward, looking up, looking nowhere. “see,” one would say, and the other would turn his head... “look how many stars there are tonight.”

and they would stare.

“i think that’s us,” the other would say. and they both understood. uncountable, unreachable, unstoppable.

in steady time, sorrow and death drew them apart. the sky was gray, the dress was black, and the eyes on faces were dripping. it was not malice which drove the rift, which narrowed the nail in the board...

they were exhausted. they were lost. they had forgotten who slept next to them in that small small bed, who sat next to them on that roof under the moon, fingers raised to meet her, all those years ago.

but beyond trial and pain they found each other again. simple, in the same way they began. born into the world with this person by my side, the only thing i’ve ever known, the only thing it will be.

and so through life, through age, through fallen leaves, they were together, as it was in the beginning, and would always be.

and those leaves on the ground withered to dust, earnestly paving the way for spring.