summer's end


amidst the late-summer hills,
at the still heart of the
sunlit bougainvillea cottage,
we kiss until we are one
on the old kitchen table
in the cool shade
and the pantry smell of
ripe apples.

hold still, as
She becomes you
and You becomes she
and moves on
to a world of her own.

it is alright now
we've become We

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