Full of Light, Full of Love

A weight, from children and years, in her round tummy,
wide hips, the sad grey cast to her eyes, the grey strands
in her hair, taking over.
 She is warm in my arms, myself past my prime, past all
hope of being brave and succesful, of being anything
other than a fucking consumerist drone.
 I bury my face in her hair, still silken, still mostly brown,
and cannot remember that summer day, what it was like
when we had a school trip romance, a play downtown.
 I cannot remember why we parted ways for so long,
only now reconnecting, as the world burns, and dreams
are left in the closet and forgotten.
 She rolls over, and kisses me, a pop kiss on wet lips.
She is still bright, still sweet, still full of so much hope.
She is still so much of the girl I once adored.
 We make love, carefully, tenderly, quietly as her children
are asleep. We are one in a perfect moment, flesh and spirit
entwined in tired souls still fighting for the light.
 We fall asleep, and we share a dream. Her dream, as it’s full
of light and wonder, and the stars are so bright above our heads.
In her dream we are forever bright, forever full of love.
 In the morning we get ready for jobs and she gets her surly
kids ready for schools they hate, a world they think they own.
I kiss her one last time through the minivan window, then she goes.
 I walk, heart light and fulll of stones, head full of the scent of her
skin lotion, and her peach shampoo, and the feel of her soft lips.
My totems to hold onto, as the world goes on wearing me down.

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