Time
We walk
in the autumn hug of the sun along
the Sunday dressed throng,
it is September in Battery Park.
Beside your laugh the Hudson river bends,
its waters deep and dark,
along the harbor moorings
inevitably it goes.
Like time it never ends,
and my thoughts of you it tows.
Sea Cruise deep channel's
sailboat early mornings
stir starboard as she murmurs,
Her sunhat competes
and, by their shrill whistles,
they move through the shade of the trees,
a parasol to accompany the rustles
in a grey glove tug of sighs
from your summer dress.
It is where we
are meant to be and in the space between the leaves,
brilliant with your body's perfume scent,
I find what we have become and we will always be
and that the river eddies represent
our talk is lighted by divinity.
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