with another summer,
we have no need for reruns
of things that had passed
between us,
even words
and tenderness,
because there’s so vast
a space for closeness,
if only you’d allow love
to run its full course.
Don’t say a word.
I know “goodbye” is an
empty conclusion
when love is in full bloom,
and it is left for you to believe,
maybe more than you are
willing to understand,
that we were love’s
before we were each other’s.
