Astride him, she looked down
as radiant he lay beneath her
and saw that he was growing old,
his black hair brindling grey.
They were divided.
She could not erase doubt
that wrote itself across her face,
an elegy for every time she had been left.
And still he stayed,
pushing up into her
like a tree growing in ground.
Rooted, she clenched around him, and came.
All that she feared
ghosting into the night air, unwrestled demons.
And the feelings a passageway
into the warm dark, remaining.
