Young lovers slip away, creating
memories with no destination. Quick breaths
combine. They climb to higher realms.
Nature, radical and aggressive attacks
senses of delight. Each rising moment
singular, divine randomness in orderly
array. Passion climbs higher unable
to stop. Devoured, they repose. Renewed
they begin the descent back to life.
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Occasionally, Hubbie and I escape to follow trails, not far from home. It still feels a little like when we were young lovers and cut classes to walk in Central Park.
