And Love And I sat

And sat

sat upon a porch one breathless night

the swing upon which we sat

creaked and creaked

its melody to us

And the stars

hung low like ripe forbidden fruit

And Love leaned close

her breath stroked my hair

And Love asked, “Wouldst thou pluck one for me?”

And I was uncertain of what to say

And the silence fell thickly like white snow.

Where her breath had been

now her fingers were

And Love asked, “Does thou love me still?”

And I, I was uncertain of what to say.