of times when people meet
the old ones sometimes speak
they'd wander thru the street
sometimes staring at their feet
too shy to look in the eye
of those that are true desire
mayhap a light touching of the hand
as they walked across the land
mayhap connect a comforting hold
the kind that remains after it's cold
mayhap talking of their own bliss
leading to one solitary soft kiss
then the night would end
until they can be seen again
departing would be bittersweet