red and amber..yielding to my touch
the fleshy sweetness oozes across lips
down chin to leave telltale traces
of momentary joy, on unbuttoned shirt.
I think of the measures
these lips have taken, slight sips, and
draughts and long, slow swallows
from the cup of life
when age finds the halfway zone
so much ahead so much behind
one reflects less indifference
one knows and expects more-
from each grain of sand through hourglass-
the potential for happiness
silica formed from the fire-womb of the world
so fitting, sand within glass
it is summer the middle of the turn
it forms the sweetness earned from
cold and denial of the sun
sweetness in the middle, and we yearn
for little else
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