In her picture
these years gone
from swimming pools
and houses dark

I see the new millennium
and the pass of time
as beauty ripens
as intellect
and eyes darken with
the sights of the world
and French lovers left
to tend the countryside.

Together our footsteps collided
and mingled with the brokenglass floors
we dare not tread
for fear of demons
eating the daisies of our youth.

It has been years
since browntooth rivalry,
for the reticent poet speaks
only of the grandeur
of the slope of her neck
and her eyes and mind
and of their shared past and parents
and of an uncertain future.