Does it
Change so much?
Memory touches hair,
Cheek unlined,
Lined, luminous.
One's mind
Traces shoulders, knees,
Murmurs fatuities
To time from all time.
No such thing as
Younger, older,
Only now over all--
Arms open under reeling
Stars return
Embraces-- open,
close, open into
Time, faces --
Her eyes, his.
Is love eternal?
Likely, yes,
I suppose it is.
I love the embrace of both "eternal verities" and its opposite ("I suppose it is") in this poem. Even after a lifetime together, there is still that gulf, as close as we are to one another....
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