it was speaking in memories



it was quiet communion on the balcony,

	the sun set, the streetlights

	broke abruptly the new dusk,

	birds and their nighttime songs,

	palm to palm and soul

	together, alone and always



it was speaking in memories,

	a tongue all our own

	of smiles and eyes

	and soft secret jokes,

	a black and white and warm past

	alive in our fingers



it was eyes closed, closer now,

	but I always look

        and I’m happiest when 

        I catch her catching me, 

        circles and fingertips,

	eyes closed, closer now

© Cameron Anstee