You in soft focus
beneath an eventide,
hands freckled
from planting sunlight.
The leaf and vine
of a meshed sensoria
colors me in.
My eyes are meshed
trace me out
in your twilit garden.
At last it is okay
to be these veteran actors
in our own love story.
We are bruised fruit
yet starlight paints
us anew.
You smile in me.
You in soft focus
beneath a night-fall
of jasmine,
hands freckled
from planting sunlight.
The leaf and vine
of a meshed sensoria
mask more than
a wrinkle or two.
At last it is okay
to be these veteran actors
in a love story.
The world will survive
another day
of our bruised fruit.
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