the cafe (best seen at a distance)

when we were young

nothing was our own

we lived in rooms of air

nothing mattered

 

but you and I and I and you

and that was more

than enough of a dream

 

we awakened into and

he who brought you

wildflowers that withered

after a day and she who

 

drove through the storm

to find me and he who

walked down icy streets

 

to your house and she

who always saw through

secret walls and touched

the hand of God – they

 

have not gone far, even

though they were never

young and soon, too

soon also never old

 

--M deO

 

Done