The Lovers
by Marilyn McIntyre
the lovers circle the wagons
stoke the fire
ignore all outrageous slings and arrows
their’s is a brave new frontier
the lovers swim in a pool of light
drowning in the depths of each others eyes
no need to be on guard
the lovers – spotlighted, dazed
applauding their own performance
no need for bad reviews
the lovers, their own sun
waltzing in the spring
encircled in their slow, slow, dance.
