Love Labor's Lost

volumes of mis-adventures

And then there’s the one who writes poetry…

“Flashing  exchanges of white we share

In the rushing night air.

Buffeted by words and laughter

and the mutual rapture

of the restless body beyond.

Under the crescent moon

and beneath the stars,

one could not ask for a more glorious charge.”

…and I just thought we had a nice walk on the beach.

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