Our eyes meet over the rim of a glass
on a cool autumn evening,
the sun reflecting gold on the lake,
a swallow slicing the mauve above.

A thought is tossed, caught in midair,
and returned – with adornment.
A spark is struck, igniting the kindling of our minds.

She comes to me wounded, but healing,
fearing to reach out, yet wanting to,
needing to.
I take her hand and give her balance.
She takes mine and gives me purpose.

Together we gambol on the lawn of query,
pursuing, exploring,
testing the way.
We thread the hazards, probe for mines. Then, building trust, we burn
bridges.

Had we met before, when she was stronger than I,
would she have noticed, paused, raised an eyebrow?
or would her agile mind have skipped over me,
neither seeing, nor caring?

But, her heart still tender, we touch fingertips,
hers older than mine, and cold.
They have taken hold of my heart, warming us both,
and now they are precious to me.

We are not lovers, and yet do we love,
for we see our future in each other’s eyes,
reflecting the pools of memory
refracted rainbows of the past.

Born of respect for what she is that I am not
and for what I am that she is not,
ours is a new love, but it will last
For, though time is short, it is long enough