We touched briefly in time and space,
Talked of commonalties, of life
And all the quirky turns strewn in our path
Our hopes, our needs, our secrets, and our strife.
The minutes eased our tensions, and we merged
Two slabs of marble, waiting for release
The artist's hand, his chisel- our desire
Our bodies sculpted as his masterpiece.

About us, clothes, like marble chips were thrown
Cluttering the floor, the bed, the chair,
Light carved shadows, soft and yet, precise
Evidence of passion's art- so rare!
Our breathing slowed and time began to slip
Like paint upon a canvas made too thin,
The bell announced the performance now was done,
As we retreated, sadly, from the din.
 

August 11, 1998