The Room of Now

We are overlapping circles of love.
My lips are your lips.
Soft skin brushes against apricot cheeks.
You hold me in this golden, dappled light
while birds feather their nests
and leaves rustle in the wind.

Where charcoal lines meet,
you lift me up –
suspended life and light.
This day could be any day.
It could be an endless day.

Do not speak to me
of calendars.
Do not answer the door.
Let the phone ring on and on.
An endless song of longing
matches our bonded flow
of me and you –
you and me.

Wrapped up in this
room of now,
I could not possibly want.
You are my pomegranate
and my peach.
You are my yesterday
and today.

The Room of Now

We trim the leaves
on the pear tree,
just outside our window.
This is our only knowledge
of the passage of time.