the lovers circle the wagons
stoke the fire
ignore all outrageous slings and arrows
their's is a brave new frontier
the lovers swim in a pool of light
drowning in the depths of each others eyes
no need to be on guard
the lovers - spotlighted, dazed
applauding their own performance
no need for bad reviews
the lovers, their own sun
waltzing in the spring
encircled in their slow, slow, dance.
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Paper Trail #1
 

their beaming light, dazzling
the toaster sitting strangely
a quick book holding noise
rustling trees singing
sideways in their door
a fortunate nose struggling
a hand seeing green
the opaque table splintering
now playing head and shoe
stopping a learning frog
a struggling, hairy, gleam
holding nothing, the oily ice.