Side by Each
“But at my back I always hear/ Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near. . . . “
–from Andrew Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress
When departed from one another,
only remembered kisses to sustain us,
laughter at missing one another
even a short few days—
knowing the return sweeter for the absence:
doves returned to the dovecote,
cooing in our love-nest.
Will we love each other forever
as in those endless love songs?
Not considering mortality’s swift
undercutting of all love’s declarations?
Yet we embrace what forevers
we have. So let us as in Marvell’s coy
poem: though we cannot make
our sun/Stand still, yet we will make him run.