"...this beautiful white-haired man
who's been sharing my bed."
I was one of the first to know.
Initially it was their sweet secret.
(I understood, was the same
when my own lovely white-haired man....)
They’d known each other long before
their respective widowhoods,
but this new joy was sudden.
“Do you think he loves me?” she asked.
“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” I said.
These poems are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.