I watch the clouds overhead
slowly spread open like a rose
while forgetting and then remembering
how small you are.

how delicately your skin sings
under touch,
mirroring my movements
as the eager pantomime using your mouth
to pick up laughter, the lowest notes

Your hair sealing in the dying light
as we move into shadow.

Bountiful beauty, we move with a slowness
and it is like we haven't moved at all.

And as pictures on a stone
we are relics from another world,
another life.