A walk in the park, autumn colored paper leaves swirling
a hint of winter. Mr. owl sleeps away the day, dreaming
mice of summers gone by. The foxtails swing and sway,
the blue jay still sings, my feet are swift, my heart light,
I don’t even count. I am in love with my wife.
What miracle we found each other this late.
Like the last bald eagles, we soar.
Keep this one young, I pray.
She is so lovely. Don’t let time ruin her.
A walk in the park, our soles whispering young lovers,
each step a precious moment, singular as a snowflake,
as beautiful and ephemeral. This is growing old together.
Eugene A. Melino