The sky and land mingle in each others reflections.
We’re old now sitting around these lights, musing.
Chewing on past participles before spitting them into the fire.
Sparks fly, we smile, remembering. Saying, “Yeah, that was good.”
Try another, we laugh. More admiration than envy.
Like the dualism of dusk and dawn, we coexist.
Durable sentiments abound in our words, romanticists.
Who would have thought. Mysteries can wait as we hash out these tenses.
Water has always mirrored the land and sky and I am considering now,
The abyss is beyond the constellations, more of a grand backdrop for stars.
We’ve skimmed the surface, disrupting shadows with illuminations.
Words spoken, recognition I have pondered.
Another log on the fire please, I have more to think about.