Baked penne pasta and bread pudding.
Cuddling on chilled sheets while
Ticklish and out of breath.
Resting in a requiem on a small brown bench,
Nestled together as red sun rays anoint our heads.
Joining hands at our hips as we haunt a small pier,
water washing over our bare feet as we watch a ship leave port.
Climbing up a high cliff, overlooking a scenic landscape,
A couple asks if we came from a parade.
Lighting a candle, one for the past, one for the future,
one for our wrongs, one for our heart.
Tattered and torn out pages of much loved titles,
these novels sit in a nook marked "nostalgia."
We're not looking for a big revelation,
Just a lot of small little ones.
Taking pictures of our quests, laughing, smiling, loving...
We forge forward.
