How wondrous the times

when first we met:

You were the girl next door

and I the guy on the block.

We were children then

without the benefit of learning or adultness.

I remember how for years we

grew not up but together,

remember when we first

stole away to enjoy our first smack –

­though it was a kiss to us then,

and how as we rubbed lips

we assured each other of a lasting bond.

We did not know then

that our world was a transient one ­

that it soon must give way

to the adult world of bland

abstracts and vain dreams.

Though we had our abstracts:

Joy, happiness, security, even love;

and likewise did we share dreams:

being together, forever loving - getting married.

But when we listed the

enemies against whom we would defend,

we omitted the obvious;

for we looked beyond that

and saw the things of the

heart, soul and mind.

We looked beneath the grass

that withers and greens

and saw the roots which

remain constant through

the changing seasons.

Thus, when we as adults

began to gather roses

we were suddenly made aware

that amidst the soft

petaled flowers

were the ever hard spears of thorns –

­the very things we had not known --

or refused to know.

Now. we see each other

through rolled glass

and smoke screen doors.

We no longer enjoy the

magic of touch and whisper:

and though we still steal away,

it is not to each other

but to the voice box which

carries our muffled voices

across the vast societal ocean

to our separate quarters next door.