Dust

has settled in our home,
chafing our touch
and cutting the light;

and though it’s as certain
as the laundry and the bills
and the alarm in the dark –
still I know;

our love is gold dust,
bursting against the gray
in towers of freckled light;

glittering ephemera, but
it settles;

leaving flakes
bedded down,
which shimmer,

when the light is right.

June 2011
I love you, Allen.

***

Post script. Honest to goodness, I posted this in January and the Valentine’s Day thing is just a coinkydink. :D

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