Old Black Eyes

In the reeds and the wet sand
when the weather is weak
you rise to keep comfort;
through the rough, we speak.

Attuned and refined,
like a mage out of time,
weave magic in circles,
lay, flustered and fine.

Sticks and thrown stones
make light and ignite
muscle memory, yelped
where we yap and we bite.

Love by the pound,
apologetic to a beat,
what a partner, mad beast,
what a love, what a treat!


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