dare we worry
the darkness coming
– or tears
we’re bound to leave
a sorrow not yet given –
tis a blessing
I believe

a barter made
for living –
will grieve our losses
soon enough
with silence
meant for breaking –
were not for love

let us take our fill
of passion
and toast the days
til when –
we meet beyond the taking
in the place
where love began

. . .