What do we do, love?

We’re not young anymore.

A little tenderfooted,

Perhaps,

But not naive.

Some days I still recall

The ways we slid through

Time like it was a rain puddle,

Silvered mirror casting reflections

Everywhere I look.

We grew together

Like two sapling trunks embracing

When I open your paper tongue,

And speak your words,

I cry.

Should we abandon loss?

Or bid the mirror shards remain?

I wait for your signal, love,

To step into the dawn,

Forever changed.