Silver threads weave
golden years together
in a tapestry of familiarity,
fondness and forgiveness.

Nothing there holds up
to light, lets sorrow in.
Closed in on one another,
they are woven of togetherness.

And yet,
yet,
when he touches her,
when he touches her shoulder
to guide her,
sparks fly,
sparks fly and ignite
the air like fireflies on a
sultry summer night.
Firestorm sparks possibility
when he touches her.

And when she glances his way,
when she glances
and catches his eye,
she drowns in his light shine,
caught in the vortex
of swirling emotion.
So deep, so deep
she sinks
in his sea blue eyes.
When she breathes
she exhales fireflies.

Billie Morrill
Niantic, CN