It happened unexpectedly,
but then perhaps it always happens
unexpectedly, though in my first
thirty year effort it never fully happened
and its momentary flickers
were no more than quickly fading embers.
This time it happened early on,
arrived without warning, then
took up residence and brought
with it a silence where breaths
grew synchronous and words,
our stock in trade, were rendered
superfluous, synapses magically linked.
And with it came the realization
that we fit together like puzzle pieces
and that for all the myriad definitions
of love, all the words spent
in attempts at a description
this was what love actually is.
an old writer and his words 
Leave a comment