"Look what the postman brought,"

you told me afterward you said

as I walked by your window,

bleary-eyed from want of bed.

Kind words, and kinder still

the cup of coffee that you gave

me to clear up my fuzzy head,

the product of my last free night,

although I didn't know it then.

Computer-matched, we'd corresponded

for some weeks with thoughtful pen,

hoping to escape from ordinary people

playing at the dating game,

me from women, you from men.

We chatted, sensed each other's rhythms;

a gorgeous day, what should we do?

What better way to be outdoors

than at the San Diego Zoo?

The drive, two hours long, gave us

a chance to talk some more, bypassing

ploys of newly-mets because we knew

each other better after minutes

than do many after years.

We strolled, were holding hands when we arrived

at sea-lion pools, forgetting former fears

and dead romances, for we sensed

one must be set to answer yes

when opportunity appears.

You sparkled; I outdid myself;

we walked along La Jolla's cliffs,

enjoyed a dinner by the sea

and setting sun, inhaled the whiffs

of ocean secrets, living for

the moment and ignoring all

the pesky buts and ifs.

The drive back to LA was happy

and in tune, a musical duet.

We kissed at your front door and I

was gone, but we will not forget

that day and all that grew from it;

the seed of love was planted then;

the grown tree blossoms yet.