Timeless Bond


“I don’t want you to drive,” said the tall strong athlete,

Now in his golden years.


“It’s less than two miles,” she said,

And drove them from her apartment to the restaurant.


He knew wine, ordered Montepulciano.

She chose This Season’s Blond from the beer menu.


Back in her apartment,

Her blue silk blouse slipped from her shoulders.


His hands, large enough to palm a football,

Cupped her breasts, small and eager as young doves.


In their moment of tenderness, she glanced to the shelf,

At the ampersand carved from a single block of wood.


Like this work of art, freed from its solitary timber,

Freed from loneliness, their rapport revealed a timeless bond.


He walked into the night,

To the ride waiting to take him to the airport.


She nestled under her feather-down comforter,

To keep warm the soft places and heart he had touched.


The steadfast ampersand stood vigil,

Connecting them.


“Timeless Bond” poem & Ampersand photo ©October 24, 2021, Nancy Upper

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