Our love is the title...
We sometimes wade in ankle-deep water,
We sometimes drown atop towering stilts.
We swim in this virginal, wondrous whirlpool,
Wanting more—sextant set to perfect degrees.
Wicked wonder gets wetter and wetter,
And we don’t know any better. Whether
To sleep on quilts of qualm, or to Love on
Different beds. Sea of sheets untucked, to rest.
We search for everything, nothing at all,
Spin-waving, head bursting with lullabies
Of old. New songs fill our souls. We hold hands.
Welcome aboard. Hold on to the unknown.
A map to play by ear, nothing to fear now.
Our compass points North, wherever that may be,
To set us free. Hold on tight now, to we.
And we’re still holding hands…
~Char
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