Photo by Kleigh Balugo
The spring’s sunlight is tender
like a lover’s affectionate touch.
A couple sits on the fresh field
red checkered cloth beneath them
picnicking on a forgotten dessert.
They’re new to love’s embrace.
Still infatuated by lavish cliches.
Their hearts will race for a while.
One another’s rare lock and key.
His harsh experienced edges
complementing her naive curves.
They’re carved from the same stone.
It’s still winter here in the shadows.
A lonely frigid breeze only exists
on the park bench I’m waiting on.
Lately, I’ve begun to wonder
if my empty hand was carved alone.